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On the Edge of the Storm 

The Story of a Year in France 



SHEPHERD KNAPP 



1 



On the Edge of the Storm 

The Story of a Tear in France 



SHEPHERD KNAPP 



Commonwealth Press, Printers 
Worcester, Mass. 






6 



Copyright, 1921, by Shepherd Knapp, Worcester, Massachusetts 



3)aA527S15 



NOV 19 192! 



/w* I 



PREFACE 

This is not a war story in the ordinary sense. It contains no descrip- 
tions of battles and front-line trenches. The War forms its background 
only; and the boys in khaki who figure in it appear in their human and 
personal capacity, rather than as units in the fighting machine. For it was 
when they had a chance to rest and play, time to talk and laugh and smoke 
and eat, that they came to the Y. 

The letters from which the narrative is taken were, with a few self- 
evident exceptions, written to my family and the people of my church. 

Shepherd Knapp 
Worcester, Mass. 

November 11, 1921 



CONTENTS 

Page 

I. At St. Nazaire, the Port of Entry 1 

II. At Chaumont, the Army Headquarters 22 

III. At Aix-Ies-Bains, the First Leave Area 37 

IV. Behind the Lines, near Chateau-Thierry 71 



I. AT ST. NAZAIRE, THE PORT OF ENTRY 
Beginning Work 

August 18, 1917. Here I am at the Y tent after my first 
day of active service, certainly a most eventful day. Of 
course, I am not permitted to say where I am, except that it 
is at the American camp known as Base No. 1. You can 
hardly imagine the strangeness and interest of this adventure, 
to me so entirely new: the military background; the being 
a part — though so small a one — of the military system; to 
wear khaki in a world where all is khaki; to be subject to 
military regulations. That is all curious; but the really in- 
teresting thing is the contact with the men. I have already 
had opportunity to get into touch with any number of Uncle 
Sam's boys, and that does seem worth while from the start. 
They are a fine-looking set of fellows; you would be proud of 
them. 

I got here early yesterday morning, and breakfasted with 
the District Secretary. Later I saw the six or seven others. 
We had dinner in one of the Y tents in the town, the food 
being brought from the army mess, my first experience of 
that. Supper I got from the soldiers' mess myself, here at 
the camp, using my mess-kit. Breakfast the same this morn- 
ing. That, as much as anything, makes me feel like a part 
of the Army. Another thing that seems funny enough is the 
saluting, trying to keep my right hand free so as to salute all 
officers, American and French. 

All the afternoon I was behind the counter in the canteen, 
selling chocolate and candy and cigarettes to the boys, and 
having chats with a lot of them. It was great! 

In Charge at the Camp 

August 26. It seems to be settled that I take the position 
of Senior Secretary here at the camp, and I am working hard 
at the task of organizing the work for the eight of us who now 
make up the staff. It is particularly puzzling, because, until 
we get into our splendid hut, now nearing completion, every- 



ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 



thing has to be done as best may be. Working in a tent 
makes special problems. From every point of view the can- 
teen is the great difficulty. But if you could see the way the 
men throng it, you would agree that the time and effort are 
well spent. . . . The great event of the week has been 
the arrival of three American women, to work in the canteen. 
Two of them are from Boston and vicinity. This is a scheme 
that the English Y has used with great success. These girls 
are evidently game and indefatigable, and are already the 
greatest possible help. 

August 27. Yesterday we were so rushed that we had no 
time to go to the mess ourselves for our dinner and supper, 
but just took a hasty bite back of the tent, potatoes on a 
fork and a hunk of meat in our fingers. At nine-thirty we 
were quite ready to roll into bed. I, by the way, am sleeping 
in the same sleeping-bag that has travelled with me to the 
Canadian Rockies so often, so that I am assured of pleasant 
dreams, if ever I dream at all; which isn't likely, for after a 
strenuous day like yesterday, one sleeps like a log. Everybody 
keeps in a glorious good humor, so that nothing matters. 

As Senior Secretary here it is my part to see that the 
programmes for the afternoon and evening are carried out 
— social, athletic, religious, educational, and that the workers 
take their turns of duty at the canteen. Also, I have the 
interesting task of trotting around to the various army head- 
quarters, and finding out who among the officers and men 
are able and willing to help us out with our programmes. 
The variety of talent which one unearths in such a round of 
visits is worthy of a democratic army like ours — all the way 
from scientific lectures to vaudeville acts and cowboy stunts. 
The performances that result are sometimes excruciatingly 
funny, often extraordinarily good. 

An Enforced Move 

August 30. Our most thrilling experiences are usually 
of a sort that the censor would not allow us to write about, 
but we had one recently which I think will get through, as it 
wholly concerned the Y. As I have told you, our work, when 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 



I arrived here, was carried on in a large tent, our hut being far 
from finished. This, of course, made the work difficult in 
many ways; and we have eagerly looked forward to the time 
when we could get into our hut, which is composed of two main 
buildings of generous dimensions and several smaller wings. 

Well, a few days ago we had a severe storm, which toward 
evening culminated in a high wind. It was my turn to sleep 
in the tent that night, on guard, and I and another of the 
secretaries were just trying to settle down to some sort of rest 
— all our clothes on — when rip, tear, crack, the wind burst in 
at the farther end, and we with the use of our ever- ready 
light could see the whole thing apparently curving in and 
coming our way. It did not take us long to get out, you may 
believe. As we had, earlier in the evening, taken all the pre- 
cautions I could think of in the way of driving stakes in tighter 
and adjusting the ropes, there was nothing for it but to let 
the elements do what they would; and by this time the storm 
of wind and rain was as bad as ever I saw. Having all the 
responsibility on my shoulders, you can imagine what an 
anxious night I spent, listening to the flapping of the half- 
demolished tent, and the rattling and crashing of its blown- 
about contents. 

At the first streak of dawn I was up, and soon, by the 
Major's orders, had all the help I needed. To my great 
relief I found that our canteen stores (hundreds of francs' 
worth) had not yet been exposed to the rain, and that the 
breakage was confined almost entirely to bottles and a few 
chairs. We got permission to store in an empty barracks 
nearby the stuff saved from the wreck; and at once we began 
to consider what do to. It did not take us long to decide 
that we must move into part of the new hut, unfinished as 
it was. All set to work with a will, and at 2.30 p. m. we 
opened the building to the boys and were selling chocolate, 
crackers, cigarettes, soap, French dictionaries, pencils, 
shaving-soap, and all the rest of our usual stock, over the 
counter of the canteen. Last evening we had a band concert 
and a vaudeville show with such an audience as we could 
never have gotten into the tent. 



ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 



This is a busy life: up soon after 6, breakfast (from the 
men's mess) over by 7.15, and then steadily on the job till 
10 at night, with not more than half an hour out for dinner 
and supper. We sometimes sell a thousand francs' worth 
of goods in a day, and that means some hustling. The result 
is that the days go by like lightning, and I am having the 
time of my life. 

Canteen Problems 

September 3. It certainly was a great piece of good 
fortune that the move from the tent to the hut was forced 
upon us, for even in our unfinished state, with carpenters 
hammering all about us, with no glass as yet in our windows, 
and with a roof that still lacks its protective covering, we 
are much better off than we were in the tent. 

We now have five women working in the canteen, which 
makes the schedule for the men a good deal easier; for I 
have arranged it so that there are always two or three women 
on duty, and except in the rush hours it is not necessary to 
have more than one man in addition. This frees the men for 
their other tasks, which have been much interfered with by 
long canteen hours. Surbeck can now devote himself to 
organizing football games, and McMahon has time to practice 
close harmony with the other members of his improvised 
quartette, and prepare his stunts of various sorts for the 
evening's programme. 

We are also working out a system of canteen tickets, 
which we hope will greatly simplify the money problem. 
One of our difficulties has been to keep on hand a sufficiently 
large supply of small change; so much so that copper sous 
have haunted our dreams. Moreover, to have a man hand 
in a twenty-dollar bill, in purchasing fifteen cents' worth 
of chocolate, and ask for the change in French money, makes 
a rather knotty problem for our amateur counter-jumpers. 
Probably the Y Headquarters at Paris will in time devise a 
system for all our canteens; but we have made up our minds 
that we cannot wait any longer, and yesterday I went into 
town with our canteen manager and, after getting permission 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 5 

from the District Secretary, struggled for an hour at the 
printer's office to reach a mutual understanding through the 
sole medium of French. As I was elected spokesman, you 
can imagine the agonies we went through. However, we 
managed to make quite a lark of the expedition, the culminat- 
ing feature being a delightful little supper served to us in 
the back parlor of a sort of grocery, a delicious omelette with 
cheese being the piece de resistance. Except for an hour's 
walk last Sunday, this was my first outing since I took charge 
here. 

In the Hospital 

Dear , September 13, 1917. 

Don't tell what follows to anyone whatever, for, as you will 
see, it is something I don't want to have reach my family or the 
church just yet. It's nothing serious, just trying, but it might 
look a good deal worse at that end, with imperfect information. 
The fact is that I've been on the sick list for a week or so. I am 
sure I know what is the matter, and I am making steady improve- 
ment; so you see there is nothing to worry about. I was in bed up 
at the camp, when I wrote you last, and was feeling "rotten, thank 
you." I won't go into detail, but just say that the root of the 
thing seems to be rheumatic — an old enemy of mine, as I may 
have mentioned to you some time. Well, my experience during 
last Saturday night proved to me that, even if I could stick it out 
longer myself, with just having an army doctor come in to see me 
once a day, I was too big a burden for the other Y men, who did 
everything possible to make me comfortable, and in consequence 
were losing too much sleep. So Sunday afternoon, while a big 
concert (operatic soprano) was in full swing in the hut, I got them 
to take me out to the ambulance, and bring me to Uncle Sam's 
Base Hospital. It certainly is a most comfortable feeling to know 
that over here, when things don't go just right with you, the 
Government is going to step in and take charge, even of us Y peo- 
ple. The hospital is fine; good doctors and nurses, and the nicest 
boys imaginable for orderlies. . . . Spite of aches and 
pains, I've been having a wonderful time; and if only I can be back 
at work soon, I sha'n't regret it. Of course, the men here, up and 
down the wards, are just the same as the boys at camp, and here 
we have lots of time. Such interesting long talks! They, however, 
do most of the talking, for sometimes I have not felt like doing 
more than ask questions and throw in a remark now and then. 
That is because they are most apt to get talking toward dark. 



ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 



while I am freshest in the middle of the day. So you see, if anyone 
asks, "Are we downhearted?" the answer is a thundering, "NO!" 
Indeed, I am only waiting till my discharge from the hospital to 
begin to prepare the church people and my family for the idea that 
I must stay here at least all winter instead of the two months I 
originally contracted for. 

Censored News 

September 15. Have I told you of our great concert last 
Sunday? A French soprano, a genuine professional, came 
with her own baritone and violinist, and gave the boys a big 
time. They did the same for her; the applause was "tu- 
multuous." Madame, her mother, had come out to camp a 
few days before, and entrusted to me a portfolio of clippings 
and puffs (to serve as a basis for my announcements, I 
suppose) , many of them copied out in long hand ; yet Madame's 
absolutely French manner and get-up made it hard for me to 
realize that underneath she was, as this evidence indicated, 
just a proud mother after all. 

It gets harder to write than it was at first, with the censor- 
ship forbidding mention of all the real things. Just now it 
seems to be particularly difficult, so except for saying that 
our hut is really very near completion (window-glass the 
main lack now) I won't try to be newsy, but use this letter 
in catching up with personal matters. 

Report of Progress 

Dear , September 21, 1917. 

I am ever so much better. The acute part of the rheumatism 
has cleared up, and to-day, a sunny day after several damp or 
rainy ones, I am not nearly so stiff. Last night I had about three 
hours of natural restful sleep, from which I woke up about mid- 
night, clear in mind and refreshed. This marks a great gain on 
what has been. . . . Through it all I have never been 
really discouraged, day or night; and indeed have had a wonder- 
fully interesting time. I've seen life and death from some new 
angles, gotten into closer touch with the enlisted men than I ever 
would have in any other way, and gathered much useful informa- 
tion about hospitals, human nature, and the Army. 
I can't get out of the doctor any word about when I may hope 
to be fit for work. He says I am doing better than he expected, 
but is a perfect sphinx for silence, when it comes to setting a date. 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 



The Hut Opened 

September 27. Great doings since I wrote you last! 
Our hut is finished, or near enough so to enable us to call it 
complete, and give a formal opening. That took place last 
night, and, as all who were there agreed, it was some show. 
The hut, the first American Y. M. C. A. hut to be dedicated 
in France, is double; two long narrow buildings side by side, 
with connecting passage ways. One side includes the big 
auditorium and the "quiet room." The other holds canteen, 
writing-room, lounge (all this in one undivided room), besides 
office, storeroom, and quarters for the staff. Pool-room and 
kitchen form still further additions. The crowd at the dedica- 
tion exercises was beyond description. You may think you 
know something about crowds, but wait till you once see 
a really crowded Y hut. It's a great sight. We had a General 
present for the chief Hon, and some very good speaking by 
officers, enlisted men, and Y representatives. Also a pro- 
fessional violinist. But, after all, the real show was the 
audience. 

The days have been so rushed lately that the men have 
barely had time to eat and sleep, and this in spite of the 
fact that we have several new workers. But this addition 
to the force hasn't affected the hut any, for the old tent has 
been erected again in another part of the camp, and the new 
men are running that. 

Ups and Downs 

Dear , September 30, 1917. 

The last day of the month, and a wonderful warm sunny day, 
more like August. I'm sitting up in a wheel chair, and have just 
returned from an expedition in it the whole length of the long sunny 
corridor where my bed is, and back again. I've been allowed to put 
on my clothes for three days now. To-day I took two or three 
steps without feeling as though I were going to take an instant 
header. So you see I have been making real progress since I last 
wrote. However, I can see that it will be a good long time before 
my left side gets back to normal use. But the right side seems 
practically as good as ever; and I expect to be able to do most of 
my work long before the last kinks get out of my joints and ten- 
dons. 



ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 



October 3. My writing in pencil doesn't mean anything ex- 
cept that my pen is dry, and I can't get it filled just now. Well, 
how is the sick man? No worse, and not much better. I got up 
and dressed and hobbled around for several days; but as my 
temperature still insisted on going up every afternoon, the doctor 
ordered me back to bed, and there I am. Yet I feel fine, and the 
rheumatism seems to linger in just one hip, except when we have 
a damp or rainy day, and then most of the joints in my legs 
and feet stiffen up. But a few hours of sunshine remedy that. 

By the way (prepare to be horrified), I've had no haircut since 
I left Worcester ten weeks ago! I must have needed one badly 
before I came down sick, but never thought about it. In the hos- 
pital — now nearly a month — there has been no chance; so you can 
imagine how I look, mostly hair. 

I tried to send a cable to the church on Sunday, asking them 
to extend my leave of absence till September, 1918. I learn 
to-day that it did not get off, as the wires were so crowded with 
official business that other messages could not be taken. I hope 
to get it off to-day or soon. ... As things look now, 
I am likely to be shifted from here, when I am able to move. 

Confessing the Crime 

October 9. By the time this reaches you, you will already 

have heard from O , who starts for home to-day, that I 

have been foolish enough to indulge in some of my old antics 
in the rheumatic line. I am sure that he will have made 
you believe at the same time that there really has been nothing 
serious about it — just tedious and beyond words annoying, 
and that I am now far on the road toward recovery. My 
chief feeling is that of shame, to spend so long a time in bed, 
when so much work was at hand to do. 

Several of the letters I have written to you were written 
here in my bed in Ward 11 of the American Army Base 
Hospital No. 101, and the reason why I haven't written so 
much lately has been because the doctor has prescribed as 
complete idleness as possible. 

I hated to confess to you that I was sick, and hoped at 
first that it would be only a matter of a week or so; though 
if I had used my wits, I might have realized that even a 
rather light case of rheumatic fever would mean a slow cure. 
I have been splendidly taken care of by the best of American 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 



doctors and nurses. Fortunately, through it all I have kept 
in wonderfully good spirits. 

I confess that sometimes, especially at the beginning, 
I got fairly furious at the thought of plans stopped in the 
middle and work left half finished or barely begun. One 
thing that particularly distressed me was the fear that some 
of my Central Church boys would arrive here, while I was 
laid up, and I should fail to see them. As it has turned out, 
that fear was unnecessary. To be sure, the first of Central 
Church's representatives in the Army have arrived, but I 
haven't missed seeing them. The only difference from what 
I had hoped has been that, instead of my looking them up, 
they have looked me up. When they arrived, one of the Y 
secretaries went along the wharf, calling out an enquiry for 
Worcester men, and then telling those who knew me where I 
was. The result was that at the very first chance Neils 
Forstholm came up to the hospital to see me. You can 
imagine the delight with which I greeted him and the two 
friends he brought with him, both Worcester boys. I certainly 
thought it was fine of them to use their first free time in France 
in coming to see the home parson in the hospital. We had 
a splendid long talk about the two great subjects of perennial 
interest, Home and the Army. The same pleasure was 
repeated last evening. It was dim out in the corridor where 
my bed is — just the light that shone through the window from 
the adjoining ward — and I had dozed off for a moment, when 
I heard some one say, "He's asleep," and there was Edward 
Anderson in his uniform and army overcoat, He, also, had 
brought a friend with him; and we had a grand old talk, the 
three of us, till just before hospital closing-time. It was a 
dreadful rainy windy night, and I'm afraid the boys must 
have gotten soaked walking back to camp. 

Hospital Life 

October 13. Last night was a wild one, a regular sea 
storm with a gale of wind. I had plenty of bed clothes, and 
quite enjoyed it, even when it broke through the window 
opposite my bed. There was a great scurrying around of 



10 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

orderlies and nurses; and those night flurries are always 
picturesque, for they use candles, and the nurses wear their 
scarlet-lined Red Cross capes. I accuse them of carefully 
arranging this becoming combination. 

I wish I could give you some idea of our little hospital 
world, and of some of the boys who are here, or have been here, 
for I have outstayed several generations. Of course, many of 
them were just parts of the scenery, like the old darkey whose 
cane I could hear tap-tapping along the stone floor, coming 
from behind me, the first thing every morning before daybreak, 
and who always told me whether his shoulders were better 
or worse — usually better, according to his report. Then 
there was the sergeant who had been ordered back to the 
States, but whose departure was for some reason long delayed. 
He looked exactly like the Kaiser at thirty-five, and evidently 
did what he could to aid the likeness by his way of wearing his 
moustache. His usual remark, as he passed me, was, "Can 
you beat it?" apropos of some new delay. But he did go at 
length. And there is McMullen, who came in here for a 
cough; but as it has been discovered that he is an expert 
pastry cook and very useful in the kitchen, I fancy that the 
hospital authorities will be a long time in pronouncing that 
cough cured. I used to see him quite often in the days when I 
didn't sleep very well; for his baking is done at night, and he 
comes strolling along in the wee small hours, a ghostly figure, 
white cook's cap and apron over his army uniform. I used to 
learn from him whether the next day's special delicacy was to 
be corn bread for breakfast or perhaps even squash pie for 
dinner. 

Lately I've had quite a wide geographical outlook. 
O'Brien comes from New Orleans, and went to college in 
Ohio. He has just gone back to duty — a very nice fellow with 
whom I had a number of interesting talks on war topics, the 
only trouble being that they were apt to get too interesting, 
producing a rise in temperature, so that I had to allow myself 
only brief periods. Smith is from Wisconsin, a region of 
rough timber land. At first, when he got to talking about his 
folks and the pioneer life and the log-houses and the little 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE ii 

school-house, where everything outside of home-life centres, 
I couldn't make out why it all seemed so familiar. Then I 
remembered the early chapters of Dr. Anna Shaw's life, which 
I read last spring. Strange to think of almost the same con- 
ditions existing to-day as before the Civil War — all but the 
wolves, of which I hear no mention. (Yes, they have the 
wolves, too, a few of them; I've just asked him.) This boy is 
of German parentage, his uncles fighting for the Kaiser, but 
"I belong to Uncle Sam," says he. His younger brothers 
have always been crazy on the subject of warships, and have 
carved diminutive ones out of blocks of wood for toys, copying 
such magazine pictures of them as came to hand. In the 
early days of the European War these little vessels all had 
German names, "Kaiser Wilhelm," "Deutschland," etc., for 
their owners thought that they ought of course to side with 
Germany; but as soon as the United States broke with the 
Central Powers, the names were all changed at once, and 
are now the "Columbia," the "Yankee," the "Wisconsin," 
and the like — a rather suggestive little incident of the sort that 
Germany fails so utterly to understand and foresee. This 
Wisconsin boy has been laid up with rheumatism like myself, 
only very much worse, and is being sent back to the States, 
a great disappointment to him. There are, of course, a few 
slackers here, who hail their sicknesses as a quick safe way of 
getting back home, but this boy is not of their sort. 

Neither is the cowboy from New Mexico, who has a touch 
of T. B., and is told to go home and get well, whereas he just 
wants to be well, and go on with his job in the Army. He is an 
artilleryman. His bed is next to mine, and we have had some 
fine old talks (especially in the evenings, when we have quite a 
while between dark and sleep-time) about cayuses and tepees 
and round-ups and camp-fires. 

A large amount of amusement has come from a six-foot 
kid named Sanderson, a marine, of Scotch blood, from near 
Philadelphia. He is that rare combination, an irrepressible 
who isn't fresh. The nurses, especially the night nurses, 
make a lot of him; he half resents and half likes it. You 
should have seen the way he shot out of his bed and over onto 



12 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

mine, when he received a copy of his first letter home to his 
mother, printed in full in "The Ardmore Chronicle." A very 
nice letter it was, too. The poor lad is here for mastoid, and 
I fear has an operation ahead of him. 

I must not omit to mention two of the French women who 
come in to do the chores, and go by my bed scores of times 
each day with pails and mops. They are mother and daughter. 
The daughter arrived late the other day, and was told to go 
and report to the adjutant: for military discipline extends 
even to the char-women. He gave her a sound scolding, not 
only for tardiness, but also for alleged removal of food from 
the premises; and threatened to reduce her pay. She lis- 
tened unmoved, and her only reply was, "I shall have to 
have two extra holidays next month." The mother is a 
stocky little old Frenchwoman with jet black hair and a 
close-fitting white lace cap. She and I exchange smiles every 
time she passes, with appropriate salutations night and morn- 
ing, and brief remarks on weather, temperature, and the like. 
She can never get used to my evident enjoyment of the sun- 
light, which pours in upon my bed through the glazed front 
of the corridor; and with distressed exclamations of " trop 
chaud" and " tres mativais," she draws imaginary curtains to 
protect me from the baleful ''soleil." 

Changes at the Camp 

October 17. I am somewhat at a loss for material for my 
letters, for the routine life of the hospital does not vary much 
from day to day. Perhaps you would like to hear a little 
about the changes which have taken place, during my sickness, 
out at the camp where I was working. At first no one in the Y 
realized, apparently, any more than I did myself, that I 
should be laid up for so long a time; and the rest of the staff 
at the camp tried to get along without a head, following out 
the general plan already outlined. But that is a very un- 
satisfactory state of things in work which undergoes such 
great and constant changes as the work at our hut, where 
there are not only tremendous variations in the numbers of 
men we work for, but also many changes in the staff itself 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 13 

which call for frequent readjustments. Toward the end 
of my second week in the hospital (though even then I was far 
from realizing how much longer I was to be here) I told West, 
the District Secretary, that I thought he must soon put some- 
one else in my place, or the work would suffer seriously; and 
not long after he did so. 

I need not say that it was a great disappointment to me 
not to have been able to continue on the job there long enough 
to feel that I had really gotten it organized and in working 
order. The time when I hoped to bring things to a head was 
when we took possession of the whole hut, and thus had 
passed from the period of temporary makeshifts to something 
like permanence; but when that time came, I was flat on my 
back here. Until my successor was appointed, I had worried 
a good deal about the way things were going, for the reports of 
the individual workers, when they came to see me, were any- 
thing but reassuring. But since the responsibility was rolled 
from my shoulders, while I have not ceased to regret that I 
had to leave the job in the middle, I haven't had to worry 
about it any more. At just about that same time our Paris 
office, unaware of my sickness, telegraphed me to leave here, 
and go to the camp at the American Army Headquarters, to 
take charge there. Of course, owing to my sickness, nothing 
came of that, but it shows that in any case I should have had 
to leave my work here unfinished. 

So many other changes of personnel have taken place, 
that Surbeck, the Athletic Director, is the only man left of 
those who were working at the hut when I dropped out. There 
have been changes among the women workers, too. On the 
other hand, owing to the growth of the camp, a second double 
hut is being erected in another part of it. Do you wonder 
that I feel like a back number? 

Sent Back to Duty 

October 25. I am out of the hospital! Yesterday, after 
the doctor had given me my discharge, I was as restless as a 
caged bear all the morning, wondering whether they would 
send the car for me. It is comparatively easy to be patient 



14 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

and relaxed, when you know that nothing is going to happen; 
but as soon as you know there is a chance that something will 
happen, it is very hard to wait unconcerned for the event. 
I was lying on the bed with my overcoat spread over me, 
taking a good long rest after dinner, when Gates, one of the Y 
men, appeared. He thought, though he was not yet sure, 
that I might be taken care of at our Officers' Club in the city, 
which includes a score of bedrooms, a new institution of 
the Y since I went to the hospital. It is indeed the only really 
good place in town, far better than any of the hotels. If by 
chance there were a place for me there, I should be in luck. 

Then came the leave-takings; and, would you believe it? 
I seemed to feel almost as bad about leaving that hospital 
and the people in it as though saying good-bye to home or 
life-long friends. There were not only the up-patients, whom 
I had known a long time from their frequent passing along 
the corridor, and the boys in my own Ward 11, into which I 
could look through the window beside my bed, and the nurses 
and ward-masters and doctors, but also, since I had been 
walking up and down the corridor myself, I had made new 
friends among the boys who were in bed there, pathetically 
sick, some of them, but all so plucky and responsive to a smile 
or a word. 

There was, for example, a little New York East Side Jew 
— born on Avenue B, he told me— whom the other people 
about didn't like much, because they said he was always 
complaining. But I didn't find him so. On the contrary, he 
always asked me first how / was, and seemed as much con- 
cerned about me as about himself. The first time I got down 
to where his bed stood, at the far end of the long corridor, and 
stopped to speak to him, his opening words were, "Oh, go 
back to bed, go back to bed." He could see that I was rather 
unsteady, and it seems that he had had a bad relapse from 
getting up too soon; he wanted to save me from a like mishap. 
It was humorous and pathetic to see how his face brightened 
up, when I told him that I too was New York born and bred ; 
I could see that it seemed homelike to him, poor lad, to talk 
to someone from his "home town." On his bed, when I now 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 15 

went to say good-bye to him, was one of my copies of "The 
New York Times" that I had started on its rounds a week 
before. 

Well, not to be too long in telling it, there were all these 
new "parishioners" of mine to say my sudden good-bye to. 
Coming back down the corridor, I met the great husky-looking 
fair-haired Northwesterner, whom I've gotten to know recent- 
ly, a fellow who looks to be as strong as an ox, has done hard 
work "all his life," he says (he is now twenty-two); has stood 
up with the best of them in the harvesting up in North Dakota. 
And here he is being sent home with T. B. He doesn't know 
what to make of it; almost doubts whether the doctors can be 
right. He talked to me an hour or more the other evening, in 
that dark period between supper and nine o'clock, which has 
been so prolific of confidential talks. Good-bye to him meant: 
" Keep your courage up, old man. Back in the good old North- 
west you're going to get rid of this, and be as good as new." 

A little farther on, standing by a window, and looking 
a bit downhearted, is the chap sent down recently from his 
regiment with some bad skin infection, due, he thinks, to the 
dreadful vermin of all sorts in the old French barracks that 
they have been using and in the cook's shack where he has 
been working. But the doctors are puzzled, and are making 
a blood test and studying him in other ways; and he, poor 
fellow, wanders around, wondering what is the matter with 
him. What can I say in the last five minutes to put hope 
into him? 

So I go along. I hadn't realized how many friends I had 
made. The half-well ones in their wrappers (pink, blue, or 
lavender, a literal "Rainbow Division") scramble off from 
their beds to say good-bye. The really sick ones sit up in 
bed, or just reach out a hand from under the bed clothes 
drawn up under their chins. The almost-cured, who are up 
and dressed, leave their cards and checkers. Do you wonder 
that it takes me an hour or more to get away? Some of them 
ask me to write to them, and we exchange addresses. 

Last of all comes my friend Hand, the cowboy from New 
Mexico, who has been my next-door neighbor for almost a 



i6 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

full month. Our beds have been head to head, so that we 
have had our backs to one another, and often, when we were 
talking, each shouting his words off into space down the 
corridor, necessarily talking a little loud so as to be heard by 
the other man behind him, people coming toward us have 
supposed we were talking to them or else to ourselves, and in 
either case have looked as though they suspected us of being 
feverish or "nutty." Hand, as I have told you, is another 
of the fellows who have had the horrid surprise of coming down 
with tuberculosis. He seems to have gotten much better 
since he came here; he has long been up and dressed, and 
hardly coughs at all. But a little extra effort starts up pains 
in his chest, and at such times I can see that he gets pretty 
blue and discouraged. He is now expecting word to come that 
he is to sail for America, and he realizes that over there he 
will be sent somewhere to a sanatorium for treatment; for 
Uncle Sam wants, if possible, not to discharge such cases till 
they are "cured." So he doesn't hope to get back to the 
ranch and the horses and the folks he knows till "January 
at the earliest," he says. I think he has selected that date 
so as not even to think about being home by Christmas. He's 
only twenty-two or three, by the way. He has been "riding" 
since he was twelve. 

At last my good-byes are said. Joe, the Italian boy in the 
Engineers' Corps, who has made such a marvellously complete 
recovery from spinal meningitis, insists on going down to the 
door with me, and wants to carry my suitcase; but Gates has 
it, so he just trails along in a friendly way. God forgive me! 
He used to bore me a little sometimes, when he was first moved 
up to our floor, and would stop by my bed and talk about his 
remaining ailments. Sometimes I played tired, and shut my 
eyes, to get rid of him. Well, he hasn't laid it up against me. 

Now to the hospital canteen, where I buy a cake of the 
Pears soap, which I have heard is for sale there, and also some 
candy and chocolate as a parting gift to the boys in Ward 11. 
Next, to the Sergeant Major's office to settle my account. 
Finally, a stop at the office of the Commanding Officer to 
pay him my parting respects, the genial Major who has so 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 17 

often joked me about being so lazy, shamming sick, etc., and 
who carries it out almost to the end by saying now: "At last 
you're going, are you? I hope you won't be coming back 
again. Only," he adds, "if you do have to go to the hospital 
again, be sure you don't go anywhere but here." 

And now I am out at the gate, and into that out-of-door 
world which always looks so queer and new and large to the 
man making his first excursion into it, after a long stay in 
the tiny world in which the sick man lives. The automobile 
starts with awful groans, for the cars we use (and abuse) 
here are simply fiendish — and fool that I am, I have actually 
a big lump in my throat as I am driven away. 

I must divide this letter; it is getting too long. I have 
still to tell of my reception into the world of well men, a less 
important but rather pleasing part of the story. 

The First Day Out 

October 26. As we drove away from the hospital, my 
first discovery of changes during my stay there was the fact 
that the Marines, who have always had the policing of the 
place, are now acting also as traffic cops. The boy who turned 
us around our first corner smiled and nodded and said, "How 
are you, Mr. Knapp?" He may have been a patient at the 
hospital, or have visited a friend there, or possibly he re- 
membered me from the long-ago period when I was selling 
chocolate and cigarettes in the canteen at camp. 

When we reached the Officers' Club, I sat out in the car, 
while Gates went in to see what the chances were of taking 
care of me there. This Club is a fine thing. The very best 
building in the town for this purpose, formerly a private 
hospital for children, has been rented by the Y. Twenty or 
more good bedrooms are ofTered for rent, with good toilet 
and bath facilities. Breakfast and afternoon tea are served; 
and the commodious parlors are open freely at all times to 
all officers of the Army and Navy. 

Soon Gates came out to tell me that I was in luck, that 
there happened to be three vacant rooms, and I could have 
one of them temporarily without interfering with the real 



i8 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

purpose of the Club. Larkin, who was one of the secretaries 
at the camp "in my day," and is now manager of the Club, 
was at the door to greet me; and you can imagine my feeling 
of having suddenly returned to civilization, when I was 
ushered into a drawing-room with rugs and upholstery and 
window-hangings and vases and bronze statuary. More 
important than all this was the fire-place, in which at once 
for my sake a diminutive coal fire was laid and lighted by 
Albert, the steward, or chef, or gargon, or whatever he should 
be called. Soon in comes Mrs. King, one of the older Y 
women, who arrived so nearly at the time of my taking sick 
that I had seen her but once, and who now looks after the 
housekeeping end of the Club, among other duties. She, if 
you please, has ordered tea, and shortly afterwards Albert 
brings it in. Never did anything taste so good; but the most 
important thing was the homelike air of it all. 

While we were having tea, some officers dropped in, and 
ordered the same for themselves, which was served to them 
on one of several little tables in the big bow window. I lay 
back in a Morris chair, and rested till nearly six, which is 
the hour at which the secretaries here in town have their 
mess, served in the basement of this building. I had expected 
to go down to it; but just before the time, Larkin came up 
to say that the menu for that night was not suited to a 
rheumatic, so he had ordered a special meal of eggs and toast 
and cocoa, and had run out himself and bought the eggs 
and a loaf of French war bread for the purpose. Also he 
said the mess-room was too cold, so he was giving me my 
supper in a warmer place, no other than the kitchen. There, 
when I went down to it, were Albert and a French soldier in 
uniform, seated on opposite sides of the table, shelling chest- 
nuts. 

As I was finishing my supper, Larkin came in with the 
Paris newspapers, just arrived, and we read the report of 
the fine two-mile advance of the French on the Aisne. Then 
with Larkin's assistance I mounted the long winding stair- 
case to my room on the third story. I lost no time in getting 
into bed, very weary as you may imagine, and somewhat 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE iq 

fearful of the effects of this most strenuous day. I did have 
some temperature, I think, but I slept well, and by morning 
was feeling all right. 

Borrowings 

October 30. By degrees I have been collecting my posses- 
sions, which have been pretty well scattered during my 
absence at the hospital. In spite of my laying it on one of 
my colleagues as a sacred charge, to assemble and keep 
together all my things, left wofully unprotected when I 
was hustled away from camp in the ambulance, I found on my 
emerging that most of my usable articles were in use. One 
man was finding my rubber boots very convenient on muddy 
days. Another told me that he never could have kept warm 
if it hadn't been for that splendid sleeping-bag of mine. 
A third was enjoying the use of my steamer rug. A fourth 
had made regular use of my mess-kit, and had distributed 
the pieces all over the place. A fifth, down here in the city, 
was getting good use out of my rain coat. Besides these 
articles which were in current use, I had to dig out from 
various hiding-places my best pair of shoes, my leather 
puttees, my folding rubber bathtub (when I asked for this, 
I found that one of the men had been "keeping it safe" 
under his cot), my private supply of writing-paper, and various 
other small items. Even the women, dear creatures, had 
appropriated — innocently, I am sure — my beloved little 
flag, which has flown over my tent and tepee in so many 
camps. I found it gracefully tacked up in their rest-room. 
So you see I have had considerable occupation along these 
lines. I have found everything now, I think, except a bundle 
containing my supply of shirts. I had rolled them up in a 
cloth to make a pillow for my bed, which was the reason 
why they were not in my trunk. 

You must not for a moment think that this implies a 
low grade of honesty among my colleagues. It is simply 
illustrative of a universal army condition. Among army 
people the practise seems to be generally adopted of "borrow- 
ing" whatever comes to hand, and even we, who are merely 



20 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

"militarized," seem easily to drift into the same method of 
supplying our necessities. 

A New Job 

November 2. In the ten days since I left the hospital 
I have improved so much that I feel almost like a different 
person, and I fancy that I look and act like one. I am still 
lame, and probably shall be for some time to come. It will 
not be many days now, I think, before I can report again 
for active service, and I expect to go soon to Paris for that 
purpose. All that I have attempted as yet is to give a little 
help to the manager of Our Officers' Club, where I am staying. 
When he goes out, I take charge, to greet, and, in a mild 
way, entertain the officers who drop in here; and if any of 
them want to rent rooms, offer to them those that are vacant. 
Albert, the French steward, if he is available, goes about 
with prospective room-renters; but he has often been out or 
otherwise employed during my times of service, so that to 
my experiences as host and desk clerk I have added that of 
bell-boy. This Y work is certainly varied if nothing else. 
Even when the manager is in, there are at times so many 
officers coming and going that both of us are fully occupied 
doing the honors. 

The Transition Period 

Paris, November 17. For the past week, by way of trying 
out my physical powers, I have been acting as general utility 
man in the office of the hotel, which the Y runs for American 
officers who have occasion to come to Paris. One really 
courageous duty that has fallen to me in this service has been 
sending telephone messages. It is no easy task with a French 
operator at the other end. It takes all my nerve to give a 
four-figure number in French, but I do succeed in getting — 
sometimes — the person I want. I even answer the 'phone, 
but in the hope that when I put the receiver to my ear, I 
shall be greeted by my dear native tongue. When, on the 
contrary, it is a torrent of French, I hastily turn it over to 
one of the French employees, fortunately within reach. 



AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 



21 



Yesterday I spent an hour in the unusual task of translat- 
ing from French to English complete detailed instructions 
for running the steam plant and the hot-water heater in 
the cellar of the hotel. As we have an American darkey 
trying to run two very French pieces of apparatus, it waa 
quite necessary to bridge the linguistic gulf, which I, dic- 
tionary in hand, attempted ; and I only hope that no explosion 
will result from my misunderstanding of some idiom. 

I am glad to say that I have announced my readiness to 
go back to active service next week. I think my health 
now quite warrants it. The slight lameness that remains 
will not interfere, I think, nor prove too great a handicap. 
I have been walking to and from my work here all this week 
(for I am rooming at another hotel a mile or so away), and 
I find that the exercise is only beneficial. So I hope that when 
I write again it will be with a new story to tell, of which, 
however, I may be allowed by the censor to tell you but 
little. I shall again be "Somewhere in France." 

November 21. I am ofif to-morrow for active service 
once more, and am, as you may imagine, rejoicing at the 
prospect. I am to have charge of our work at the American 
Army Headquarters. Our first hut there is nearly completed, 
and there will be one or more others later, besides other 
smaller enterprises. There are some specially interesting 
features in this job; and while it is on a somewhat larger 
scale than what I have attempted here before, I hope to 
be able to make good. 



II. AT CHAUMONT, THE ARMY HEADQUARTERS 

The Y's Field at G. H. Q. 

November 23, 1917. I arrived at my new field of work 
yesterday at noon, and find an immensely interesting task 
before me. Of course, it bristles with problems; but there is 
good hope of finding solutions for them, and certainly the 
work is important and worth while. The task nearest at 
hand is the opening of the hut, which is nearing completion. 
In fact, by a curious coincidence, it is just about as far on as 
the other one was, when I was forced to leave it and go to 
the hospital. But in this case no activities are as yet being 
conducted in the unfinished hut. 

There are three other men here now, or four counting 
the one whose whole work is superintending the hut's con- 
struction. But one of these, the one who has been in charge 
till now, and of whom the boys speak in the warmest terms, 
leaves for his new field on Friday, leaving but two other men 
to share the general work with me. Even for the hut alone, 
that would be a small enough force, but besides that there 
are other centres of work to open up, for groups of soldiers 
encamped in the surrounding country; and we are also very 
anxious to start an officers' hotel or club here in town. The 
difficulty is to secure any suitable place; for the town is already 
very well taken up. Fortunately two women workers arrive 
to-morrow. I have met them, and think they are of the very 
best sort. 

I feel well, and expect to be well here. Several times since 
I came I have walked with barely any feeling of lameness 
at all, which I regard as a particularly good record, considering 
that the sun has hardly shown itself since my arrival. 

November 25. I have this afternoon made my first 
visit to two of the outlying stations, and had there my first 
experience of what mud means to the soldiers in France, a 
mild experience of it, to be sure, compared with conditions 
in the trenches, but enough to awaken in me a new sense of 
what a privilege it is to be trying to bring from the people 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 23 

in the States some comfort and help to our boys, which will 
not reach them so quickly in any other way. 

Getting Started 

December 2. We informally opened the hut to the boys 
on Thanksgiving Day, using one side of the building. It 
had been quite a job to clear and prepare it; stoves to erect, 
fire wood to be procured, lamps to be installed (for we have 
not yet electric lights), canteen supplies to be opened and 
arranged. The lamps, for instance, were not in place on 
the day of the opening, till just as it was growing too dark to 
see without them. We had a short Thanksgiving Day Service 
at 4 and a concert in the evening by a capital man sent from 
Paris. Also we gave a free feed of coffee, sandwiches, salmon 
salad, apples, and nuts, both afternoon and evening. The 
men warmed our hearts by their appreciation. "Best time 
since I left the States," said one. 

Since then we have been open daily 9 a. m. to 9.30 p. m. 
with canteen open from 12 to 2 and from 5 on. To-day, 
Sunday, has been our busiest day, as the men are much 
freer, so we have had the canteen open right through from 
12 to the hour of Service this evening. The hut was full for 
the Service, the singing splendid, and the boys very responsive. 

We are promised a new man to-morrow. I don't know 
his name, but Mr. Carter (who was here yesterday) says he 
is regarded as the strongest man in the group of nineteen 
just arrived. I expect to have him take charge of the activities 
in the hut, exclusive of the canteen. Also my strong appeal 
for a chauffeur was honored at once. The rapidity even 
startled Mr. Carter, who had seconded my request. He 
arrived yesterday, Conly by name, and will have complete 
charge of the car and motor-cycle, keeping them in order 
and driving them. This avoids the constant calling away 
from their proper jobs of the other men, besides being much 
better for the machines. For the abundant shopping, now 
necessary in fitting up the hut, the free use of the car is a 
tremendous time-saver; and later it will enable me to go from 
point to point of our growing field with freedom. 



24 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

December 11. My days are made up of an extraordinary 
miscellany of interests, many of them of a very humdrum 
order, such as problems of carpentry and paint and plumbing; 
for our hut is still incomplete; and indeed roof, walls, floor, 
and windows were all that existed when we opened the doors 
to our soldier public. My task is not the actual labor, of 
course, but that of keeping things moving by planning the 
day's work, assigning the tasks, advising, encouraging, and 
praising, or (as tactfully as I can) correcting mistakes. 
Besides all this, there are, of course, special parts of the work 
that I have to execute as well as plan, largely of a diplomatic 
character, consultation with the army authorities, securing 
of permissions for every material change or extension of 
our work, correspondence with our own Y ofiEicials or personal 
conferences with them. 

This afternoon I made a little journey to carry out a 
victrola, records, stationery, magazines, and books to a 
small group of our soldiers camped in the forest eight miles 
away. The young officer in charge came to us one day last 
week to beg for a victrola for his men, and fortunately we 
had one for them, which I took the earliest opportunity to 
carry to their camp. It was fine to see how this young 
Lieutenant is aiming to combine proper military discipline 
with a keen personal interest in the welfare of his men. We 
were glad to be able to co-operate with him, and I am happy 
to-night thinking how the seven records we took with the 
victrola are adding a new bit of cheer to the boys in that camp. 

Fun at the Hut 

December 16. The outstanding event of the week has 
been two nights of musical entertainment at the hut, given 
by three musicians sent down to us from Paris by our Y 
Entertainment Bureau. There was some fine violin and 
piano music, a truly classical programme, and interspersed 
with these numbers were French ballads, wonderfully sung 
by a little French lady, whose skill of interpretation was so 
great that she could have been fairly well understood even 
without the explanation in English which preceded each 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 25 

ballad, given by one of the other performers. You should 
have seen how the boys enjoyed it all. It would have made 
you appreciate how hungry they get for entertainment, and 
I am sure you would have envied the performers their op- 
portunity to give so much pleasure to such a crowded roomful 
of applauding men. Our having them for a second night was 
an unexpected treat, due to the fact that they had a day 
without an engagement and a short journey to their next 
place. The boys took advantage of their second appearance, 
to prepare a letter of appreciation and thanks, which, neatly 
typewritten and signed by representatives of as many com- 
panies as could be reached in the short time, was presented 
in the middle of the performance by "Private Brown of the 
Quartermaster Corps," whom I called forward for that 
purpose. 

Sometimes I go back to the hut in the evening, sometimes 
not. There is a hut leader, and I am not responsible for the 
details of things there. So if there is nothing special on, 
I often get into bed early, and there write or read. In that 
way I manage to keep physically and nervously ahead of 
the game. . . . The week has been busy with a hundred 
little things — tasks and worries of all sorts. The worst 
thing is that for one reason or another our workers go as fast 
as they come. This is, of course, the fortune of war, but none 
the less trying; for naturally it necessitates much rearrange- 
ment of tasks, and makes it hard to carry on a definite policy 
or plan. 

Christmas Preparations 

December 23. For the last three or four days I have had 
the special pleasure of carrying out bags and boxes of Christ- 
mas presents for the soldiers in the outlying camps for which 
we are responsible. Many of these were gifts sent direct 
to General Pershing, to be given to "some soldier." He has 
turned them over to the Y to distribute. We had, too, boxes 
of Christmas tree decorations, so that each camp could carry 
out that part of the celebration, and a plentiful supply of 
Christmas carols. 



26 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

So over the snowy roads and under leaden skies that seem 
perpetually to be threatening more snow, I have gone speedily 
in our little Ford to the different camps. It was great fun 
to play Santa Claus in such realistic fashion. Some of the 
things, as I said, were in bags, which I found myself naturally 
swinging over my shoulder as Santa Claus, of course, naturally 
would. 

I wish you could see the preparations being made in some 
of the camps by the officers and men : the tree being carried in 
by two soldiers, as I saw it at one place to-day: Christmas 
greens and lots of mistletoe — which is very plentiful here- 
abouts — being arranged with an effectiveness that you would 
hardly have expected where there is no woman about to give 
it the proper touch: elaborate programmes of home talent 
for Christmas eve and Christmas day — athletic, musical, 
and dramatic. 

Let me give j^ou an outline of my day to-day. Arriving at 
the hut, I find things still in a good deal of a mess from the 
crowd of the night before — the Saturday night crowd, aug- 
mented by the fact that Bishop Brent of the Philippines 
spoke. As I say, the hut when I reached it this morning 
looked like anything but Sunday and church, so I joined the 
broom squad for a while. Then came a Communion Service 
at which Bishop Brent officiated, attended by a good number 
of men and officers. The rest of the morning was spent in 
assembling Christmas gifts and carrying them to the hospital 
for the orderlies (the Red Cross takes care of the patients) 
and to the most distant of our outlying camps. As we poured 
out our bagfuls of tobacco, games, and packages in paper and 
ribbon from friends of the soldiers at home, the sergeant stand- 
ing by exclaimed, " I guess we're not going to have such a bad 
Christmas after all." 

I got back a little after noon, and lunched, and then took 
the Bishop out to another camp where we have a tent, in 
which he conducted a service for the men, and gave them a 
fine talk. There, also, I left Christmas gifts and at the same 
time made arrangements to take out to them some enter- 
tainers from Paris on Christmas night. They (the enter- 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 27 

tainers) are to be here two days, and we are spreading them as 
far as they will go. 

Back then to town and the hut, where a children's party is 
in progress, not given by us, but by some of the army people, 
we merely providing the place. It is for the children of the 
town, and streams of children from all quarters are converging 
at the hut; the Mayor of the city is there and the American 
Commandant. 

I expected to stay for it myself; but as I enter, I get the 
upsetting report that we are quite out of wood for our stoves. 
So I climb into the Ford again, and off we go in the twilight 
to the wood-cutters' camp eight miles away and partly through 
the forest. For luckily we have an order for six steres of wood, 
but have to transport it ourselves. The boys who help us to 
load it into the car tell us that everything is "coming on fine" 
for Christmas; and as we separate we give one another advance 
wishes for Merry Christmas, just as you are doing at home as 
I write, in the case of people whom you are not likely to see on 
the day itself. 

When I get back to the hut with the wood, I find that 
there has been a perfect mob of children accompanied by 
their relatives to the third and fourth generations (reckoned 
backwards), and the place looks it. So everyone turns to with 
the brooms again; and in half an hour order is restored and 
the chairs are set for Evening Service, when one of the Chap- 
lains is to speak. As I had been to church twice already and 
had had three long auto rides in cold that made one's ears and 
cheeks tingle, I didn't stay for the Evening Service, but am 
writing to you instead. 

Most of my days are made up of a queer miscellany of 
occupations. Some of the things that I happen to call to 
mind from the doings of this past week, for instance, are, 
conferring with the Quartermaster about that wood for our 
stoves, and with the chief engineer about the electric lights, 
and several times with the Commandant and the Mayor about 
a building for our Officers' Club: arranging with a sergeant in 
the barracks nearby to help us in the disposal of our swill: 
shopping in the town for lamps, and grates for the stoves. 



28 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

and mats: writing and telegraphing to Paris for more workers 
and another automobile: planning the work of a new worker 
who did arrive and rearranging the work of the others in 
consequence: hiring two rooms where the many officers and Y 
secretaries who turn up here can get a bed for the night when 
all the hotels are full, as often happens: drawing cheques and 
paying bills. Oh, how simple life in Worcester seems as I 
look back on it, where the people in the stores talk English, 
and the plumber comes with reasonable promptness when you 
send for him, and the main part of the minor machinery of 
life seems to run itself. Some days here it seems as though we 
had to create the whole universe over again from the be- 
ginning, before we could get a dinner cooked or perform any 
other ordinary occupation of daily life. Even the mailing of a 
letter means taking it to one particular place and climbing 
several flights of stairs to the room where it is given to the 
censor. And then the long-suffering censor has his troubles. 
I can imagine what he thinks of me when he notes that this 
is now the tenth page of this letter. But when he knows that 
this one is an answer to more than a dozen from different 
ones of you received this past week, I hope he will forgive 
me. 

"Noel! Noel!" 

December 26. Here begins the account of my Christmas 
day spent with the Army in France. In the first place, it 
looked like Christmas. The snow of several earlier storms — 
none of them of any size, however, as a New Englander counts 
such things — was still on the ground, and in the night we had 
had a fresh fall. When I started for the hut, which is at quite 
the other end of town from my room, the winding street looked 
like a picture on a Christmas card. I called out "Merry 
Christmas" to every American I passed, officers and all, 
and no matter how high their rank. For that one day a friend- 
ly greeting must take the place of the usual military salute. 
And you should have seen how the solemnest faces broke 
into a smile at that challenge. Colonels called back a cheery, 
^'Same to you," just like the privates. 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 2q 

There was a service announced to be held in the hut in the 
middle of the morning, to be conducted by one of the Chap- 
lains, and I had expected to attend that, and to spend the 
rest of the morning helping in the preparations at the hut for 
the tree in the evening. But, as almost always happens in 
this life over here, I was side-tracked from what I expected, 
and set at something entirely different. 

We had with us over Christmas five entertainers, musical 
and humorous, Americans all of them, two women and three 
men, all in Y uniform (for the women have a uniform, you 
know, as well as the men, though not of a military sort — its 
green and light blue make a pleasant contrast with the pre- 
vailing khaki that surrounds them). I had scheduled these 
five for one of the outlying camps for Christmas night, but 
when I told them about it, I was careful to tell them at the 
same time about a second camp only two miles farther on, 
where the boys were just aching for entertainment; and the 
five promptly rose to my bait, or, to be accurate, one of the 
women led and the others followed, declaring that they would 
sing at both camps. So part of my Christmas morning must 
be spent in going out to carry this good news, and make sure 
that the necessary preparations were made. Added to this 
was the news which greeted me, on my arrival at the hut, that 
as usual the wood supply was nearly exhausted: so I must 
continue my country ride to still a third camp, that of the 
wood-cutters, to get a load of wood. There, then, was the 
better part of a morning's occupation cut out for me. I put on 
with delight some extra "woolies" that had arrived just in 
time for Christmas and this cold ride out into the snow- 
covered countryside, gloves, sweater, and a marvellous woolen 
helmet. In fact, you would laugh if I should describe to you 
all the layers of clothes I had on ; and one of them, by the way, 
was that chamois shirt that some of you have seen in my 
Rocky Mountain camping pictures, with the bead work still on 
it made by the Camp-fire girls of Central Church. But, of 
course, that was well down under my uniform and army 
overcoat, in company with that new Christmas sleeveless 
sweater I've told you about. 



JO ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

My visits to the first two camps were not especially event- 
ful, though they gave a chance for many more Christmas 
greetings. At the second one the boys were receiving their 
Christmas presents in the fine little Y hut that the officers 
have given to them there (a building erected for the officers' 
own quarters). The place was trimmed with greens, and a 
decorated tree stood in the middle. As the decorations on 
the tree and many of the presents being given out had been 
provided by the Y, and we were now bringing news of a 
"show" in the evening, you can imagine that we were not 
unwelcome visitors. I wish I might pass on the impression of 
the grateful and friendly faces to you people at home whose 
money and other gifts made it possible for the Y over here to 
give the boys a Christmas something like the ones at home, 
for, of course, we workers are merely bringing to them what 
you send. 

We reached the wood-cutters' camp at about half past ten 
and found them in the midst of the out-door Christmas sports 
which their Lieutenant had arranged for them, and which he 
was personally conducting. We could not very well ask them 
to stop their sports in order to supply our need of wood, so 
there was nothing for it but for us to do what we decidedly 
wanted to do, namely, stand by and watch the fun. They had 
made us welcome from the start, for as we appeared they made 
quick preparations to greet us in the manner appropriate to 
the day; and I had barely sung out my own "Merry Christ- 
mas" to them, when there came back in a hearty chorus, 
"Merry Christmas, Y. M. C. A." 

They were "chinning up" on a bar tied between two trees 
when we arrived — for you realize, of course, that their camp is 
right out in the forest; and the trees all about and the tents 
they live in made me think more of camping at home than of 
war in France. The next event was the standing broad jump, 
made difficult by the snow and the icy ground, which gave 
but a poor toe-hold. Then came a rope-pull, and again the 
snow under foot added some special features. All this time a 
boxing bout had been going on as a sort of side show. And 
last of all, as a grand finish, there was a four-mile cross-country 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 31 

or through-the-woods race. The prizes for these sports, by 
the way, as well as Christmas presents for all, had been 
carried out by us several days before, and again the decorations 
on the tree were of our providing. So we did not feel like mere 
intruders, and we certainly were not treated as though we 
were. 

By the time the sports were over and our Ford had been 
filled with wood in no time by all the athletes, it was almost 
noon; and nothing would do but we must stay to dinner. 
Now to say that we tried very hard to decline would not be 
true. On the contrary, I was very careful indeed, I assure you, 
while politely saying that perhaps we ought not to stay, to 
show the hospitable Lieutenant that to stay for that dinner 
was just what we longed to do. As soon as he had swept my 
faint words of polite reluctance out of the way, assuring us 
that there was plenty for two more, and that, of course, we 
were going to share their Christmas dinner, we graciously 
succumbed. While we were waiting in his tent for the food to 
be brought over from the mess tent, he showed us, with evident 
pride and pleasure, the presents — three of them — which his 
men had clubbed together to buy for his Christmas, beautiful 
things which they had tramped way into town to buy, and had 
selected with the greatest thought and care. 

Then came the dinner, and Uncle Sam certainly does 
spread himself to give his boys the right sort of "eats," when 
the big days come around. I've had no such meal since I 
came to France. Oh, that turkey! and ah, that turkey- 
stuffing! and the splendid pumpkin pie that topped off the 
meal! with all kinds of fixings and extras which I shall not 
take space to describe. We had to rush away as soon as we 
had finished, but not before we had paid a visit to the kitchen, 
and told the cooks in person what we thought about it all. 

I had just half an hour after getting back to town, before 
I started off on the second stage of my Christmas day ex- 
perience. This consisted in taking our five entertainers to 
the Big Base Hospital, and dividing them up into small 
pieces, as it were, so that all the men in all the wards might 
receive at least a tiny bit of Christmas cheer from their songs 



32 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

and stories. Twelve separate times those indefatigable people 
sang their carols and songs and gave their capital recitations 
in verse and prose. At each stopping-place, while the little 
portable organ was being set up and the performers were 
discussing, "What shall we do first?" I would go along the 
corridor and open the doors of the wards, calling out a loud 
"Merry Christmas, boys," if all the patients there seemed to 
be up and about, or saying it more quietly if some of them 
were lying very still in bed. And when I added, "We've 
got some music for you: shall I leave the door open, so 
that you can hear it?" there would come back a decidedly 
American "Sure thing" or "You bet," though often with a 
Swedish or Italian or even a German accent. Then the up- 
patients would come flocking out into the corridor, in pajamas 
covered by army overcoats, or else in those gay-colored 
wrappers which I remembered so well from my own hospital 
experience. How the boys did seem to enjoy it, especially 
the funny stories and the singing of the women : and how those 
five who gave all this pleasure enjoyed it themselves. To 
two whole buildings full of American soldiers and one of 
French they brought Christmas in that way. I shall always 
remember Miss Horisberg's singing of "My little gray home 
in the west" and Dr. Emerson's recitation of "Your flag and 
my flag," when we all instinctively stood at attention, just 
as though the flag were visibly passing before us. When we 
left, it was already dark, and I hurried the five away for a 
little rest and supper before their full evening programme. 
I sent them off to that in due time in charge of another 
secretary, and went myself to the hut, where I knew help 
would be needed. And it certainly was. We had a perfect 
throng of men there, so that though the auditorium was 
packed with those who were listening to a fine military band 
concert, there was still a steady stream of purchasers at 
the canteen. Then in the middle of the evening we gave 
each man for his Christmas present a package of one of his 
favorite "smokes," we men bringing up the ammunition 
from behind while our women workers handed out the little 
packages with a personal greeting to each man. One boy 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 33 

afterwards, when I was walking about in the crowd at the 
back of the hall, said, showing me his package still unopened 
in his hand, "This is the only present I've had to-day, and 
it means more to me over here than an automobile would 
at home." 

When I reached my room in the hotel at a little after 
ten, I began to realize that except for meal times I had been 
on the go steadily the whole day long. Bed looked pretty 
good to me, and I was starting to get ready for it, when I 
heard from down-stairs the sound of soprano singing. "There 
can't be two voices like that in town to-night," I thought. 
And sure enough those entertainers of ours, after their long 
afternoon in the hospital and the two concerts at the outside 
camps in the evening, had found at the hotel, on their return, 
a roomful of home-sick officers trying to make a Merry Christ- 
mas with very few of the proper ingredients, and had turned 
to and given a concert to them. No wonder the Captain, 
in making his neat little speech of thanks, said that those 
voices from home had done more than anything else to bring 
them the real Christmas spirit. It was half past eleven before 
we finally all went to bed, for of course we had to stand around 
and talk it all over for awhile in the hall upstairs, before we 
finally separated and went, weary but happy, to our beds. 
I think it was one of the women who said, what I am sure we 
were all thinking, "I suppose the people at home are feeling 
sorry for us because we are spending our Christmas so far 
from home, whereas the fact is that it has been a wonderful 
Christmas, one that we shall never forget." 

House-Hunting 

December 30. Since Christmas Day my time has been 
chiefly spent in further attempts to find and rent buildings 
for our various needs. The results are meagre, but you have 
no idea how much time these negotiations take: the French 
ways of doing business are so entirely different from ours. 
Imagine me, for instance, entering the office of a leading 
notary, who is trying to find quarters for our Officers' Club. 
The outer office is like a picture from Dickens — the shelves 



34 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

piled with dusty labelled papers, the quaint clerks at their 
desks, the bright-eyed little boy who is very busy doing 
nothing in particular at a table in the corner, but who at 
intervals gives signs of real usefulness in tending the stove. 
And the whole place is so small that the three desks and the 
table nearly fill it. Here we wait for a moment, I and my 
interpreter, for my French is not equal to complicated negotia- 
tions, and I have brought with me Mrs. Hall, one of our Y 
women, who is more expert. The notary is away, but his 
assistant receives us in the inner ofiice, and the conversation 
begins. It is all that we can do to hold it to the main line of 
progress which Mrs. Hall and I have agreed upon between 
us in advance, and soon I find myself talking English at 
the same time that Monsieur is talking French; otherwise 
I could never make any headway at all. That is evidently 
the reason why French people among themselves seem all to 
talk at once: it is that or an endless monologue by the one 
who happened to start first. But by butting in — of course 
with elaborate apologies — we manage to get on, until some- 
thing draws out the fact that Monsieur is a refugee from a 
part of northern France still in possession of the Germans; 
then one hadn't the heart to stop him. What would I not 
have given to be able to follow the whole story. But from 
what I could catch with my scanty knowledge of French and 
by reading the expression of Mrs. Hall's face as the story 
proceeded, I could get enough to be swept away on the stream 
of sympathy, and to forget for the time that this was indeed 
to be a business appointment. Truly, we do not know what 
war really means as long as our homes are unthreatened; 
but to have everything that one holds dear destroyed, and 
often with utter ruthlessness, as it appears — how do people 
go on living their everyday lives after that? How does this 
little Frenchman, transplanted to this distant place, with his 
heart full of such bitter reflections, go on with the ordinary 
transactions of business — real estate, wills, lawsuits, taxes? 
Another little episode, one that would have amused you, 
could you have watched me in it, took place yesterday when 
we went through a little furnished house (which I hope to 



AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 35 

rent for our business office) in order to check up the inventory. 
It was like taking a French lesson on the words for household 
equipment. Even my interpreter had frequently to ask 
"What does that mean?" when we came to some obscure 
term, which, likely as not, would turn out to be nothing more 
unusual than a washboard or a frying-pan. The house itself 
is the quaintest little place, with passages so low that even 
I have to stoop in passing through. The whole thing seemed 
more like a plaything than reality. The cellar stairway, all 
of stone and well worn, was so cramped that the only way to 
get down it was by going backwards. It was worth the 
trouble, however, to discover there a small supply of anthra- 
cite coal, which is about as precious as gold over here nowa- 
days. Under the first cellar was a second, roofed over with 
brick arches, a very useful apartment to have at your disposal 
in case of a bombardment, as the real estate agent takes pains 
to point out to you. 

These house-hunting expeditions have given us some 
interesting views of the old city and its buildings. For 
real sight-seeing I haven't any heart at this time; but it 
certainly is delightful, as one goes about one's appointed 
task, to see here a tower that suggests the middle ages, here 
a quaint doorway, there a fine old church, with bits of exquisite 
carving or a perfect menagerie of gargoyles. And with snow 
on all the roofs, and in streets, which for the most part are 
used by foot-passengers only, so that the snow in them lies 
clean and white for days, the picturesque element is still 
further emphasized. One comes back with a dreadful shock 
to the realization that this horrible War is going on all the 
time, and that behind many of these very house walls, which 
look so picturesque, the tragedies of the War are embittering 
human lives. And America must more and more enter into 
the bitterness of this experience. The one thing that makes 
that thought any way endurable is the knowledge that 
America's sole purpose in taking up arms is to help to put a 
sure and complete end to all this horror and wickedness. 

Forgive me that I have gotten to talking about the War, 
instead of sticking to my story. We try not to let our minds 



36 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

dwell on the miseries and sorrows of it all, but sometimes it 
is impossible to escape them. 

Transferred 

January 11, 1918. My life over here proceeds in rather 
distinct chapters, like a book. Since I wrote you last, I have 
finished one chapter, and am preparing to enter on another. 
I am feeling extremely happy over the work that I am now 
to be assigned to. The plan is that I shall go to the place to 
which all the American soldiers will be sent for their leave : it 
sounds to me like a big opportunity. It is not absolutely 
settled, because it depends on certain decisions and actions 
of the Army, which may yet quite change the Y's programme; 
but I think it is likely to go through. It will give me just the 
sort of work that I like best and feel best fitted for; for it 
will, I hope, bring me again into close personal touch with the 
boys, and that, as you have probably discovered from my 
letters, was almost entirely barred out in the work in which I 
have recently been engaged. Mr. Carter said some nice 
things about my work at G. H. Q., in particular about the 
special thing I was originally sent there to accomplish, a 
sort of diplomatic task. And in general I think progress was 
made, though by no means as much as I should have liked to 
see. Gethman, the new man, who has both the technical 
experience and the physical vitality that I was short on, will 
be able to make the structure rise rapidly on the foundations 
that have been laid. 



III. AT AIX-LES-BAINS, THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 

Spying Out the Land 

January 24, 1918.* I feel as though I were on leave myself, 
my chief duty here at present being to acquaint myself with 
all the attractions and interests of the place, so as to be able 
to inform the other secretaries, when they come, and the 
boys themselves, when they begin to arrive. You can imagine 
how agreeably I spend my days. I have taken several delight- 
ful walks. Twice I have started before ten, with my lunch 
slung on my back in the case that ordinarily holds my mess- 
kit, and have been on the road for four or five hours. It is 
doing me a lot of good, I think, and especially is strengthening 
my left leg, where the worst of the trouble has been. I took 
shorter walks at first, working up gradually to these longer 
ones, so as not to overdo. When I get home, my leg is good 
and tired, but soon gets rested. 

I find that there are good bicycle roads in all directions, 
which the boys will enjoy immensely, I think, after the close 
routine of army life; and the scenery all about is delightful. 
My walk to-day began in thick mist, which meant that the 
clouds were trailing through the valley bottoms. At first 
the sun tried vainly to break through; but just as I arrived 
at the little town which was my destination, the lower clouds 
lifted and dissolved, and there were the ranges of mountains 
to right and left, each with a band of white cloud across the 
face of it, and, below, the lake, its shores dotted with farm- 
houses and little towns. I have found several good objectives 
for excursions and a few cafes where "eats " of the modest sort 
allowable in war time may be obtained. As for hikes and 
climbs, there seems to be a wide variety. Yesterday, for 
instance, I climbed up a mountain behind the town, from the 
top of which I had a glorious view of Mt. Blanc and the high 
Alps. I had to make the trip on foot and part of the way 

♦Letters sent about a week earlier than this, describing the arrival at Aix and first im- 
pressions, and stating in more detail the plans for the Leave Area, were never received. 



38 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

through the snow, but there is a cog-railway which we hope 
may later be available for the boys. It will make a splendid 
trip. 

The Two Churches 

January 25. You would be pleased to see the interest and 
cordiality expressed by the French people here with regard 
to the coming of the American soldiers. Of course, they hope 
to find it profitable, too; but, besides that, there is no mistak- 
ing the note of personal welcome in all they say and do. They 
have responded with great warmth and kindness to the re- 
minder that our boys cannot, like the French poilus, go home 
for their leave, and that therefore we want to make them feel as 
much "at home" here as is possible. I am sure that the resi- 
dents of the place will do all in their power to accomplish that. 

For instance, there is the Roman Catholic Cure, upon 
whom I called yesterday. I' attended mass at the Roman 
Catholic Church last Sunday morning, as there was no Pro- 
testant Service till afternoon, and naturally did not feel very 
much at home there, both because the Service with its un- 
familiar ceremonial was in a foreign language in more senses 
than one, and because the church was like an ice-box in tem- 
perature, so that during the hour I was there I could feel the 
chill from the stone pavement creeping gradually up my body. 
But the call on the Cure was quite different. I went with 
Dr. Frangon, a leading local physician, who has helped us in 
every possible way, and who acted as my interpreter. We 
were ushered in, through several halls and rooms, to an inner 
apartment where a blazing fire sent out welcome warmth from 
the fire-place, and a circle of chairs invited us to sit down in 
social fashion and enjoy it. The Cure has a genial face and 
pleasant manner, and received us with great friendliness. 
I explained that the Y was always deeply concerned to 
strengthen in every way the religious influences around our 
boys, and that I had come to ask for his co-operation in 
serving the Roman Catholics among them. He promised to 
do everything in his power, said he would try at once to secure 
a priest who speaks English, will see that our boys are per- 
sonally welcomed when they come to church, and in particular 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA jg 

will call into service everyone in the parish who speaks Eng- 
lish, for this purpose. He knew, of course, that I was a 
Protestant, and I was glad to make plain to him how loyally 
and heartily we sought to co-operate for the deepest welfare 
of the soldiers, without respect to difference of creed. 

The French Protestant Service I attended on Sunday 
afternoon; though I nearly missed it, for when I arrived, I 
found the little auditorium absolutely empty. It was also very 
cold, as cold as the Roman Catholic Church had been in the 
morning, and I was glad that when dressing that morning 
I had fortunately realized the possibility of cold in the church- 
es, and had put on extra garments to counteract it. I waited 
a few moments for someone to arrive, noting meanwhile the 
severe Protestant plainness and simplicity of the interior, 
and the great open Bible on the Communion table, where any 
casual visitor could read for himself, in the vernacular, the 
life-giving Word. No one else arrived, however; so I went 
out and walked a short distance along the street and back 
again, thinking that perhaps the hour of Service was later 
than I had supposed. The fact was that it was earlier, and 
also that the worshippers had adjourned, before I arrived, 
from the cold church to a smaller and warmer room. For- 
tunately they were singing a hymn, as I again reached the 
church, and I followed the sound of their voices till I found 
them. They were about twenty in all, men, women, and 
children, and their leader, as I noticed with surprise and 
pleasure, was in the uniform of a French poilu. The hymn 
they were singing was heroic in its sentiment, and the little 
congregation was singing it with fervor. Then followed a 
prayer, and the soldier-leader spoke it so simply and slowly 
that I could follow it all. Nothing, I think, has made me feel 
more deeply the suffering and devotion of France in this 
terrible War, than that prayer did in this little Church of the 
Open Book. 

Getting Ready for the Crowd 

February 5. I am taking a few moments while waiting 
for Dr. Frangon, one of our best friends and greatest helpers 



40 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

here, who is devoting the greater part of his time to our 
interests. He speaks English fluently, and understands 
Americans, having known many of them personally and 
professionally. I am waiting at his house till he comes in, 
to ask him to go with me on an errand in which I need, not 
only his facility in French, but also his persuasive powers. 

Things are moving rapidly here now, or at least a great 
deal of work is going on ; for the time of opening is now near, 
and there is a tremendous amount to be done. You see, 
active preparations in detail could not be started, till the 
necessary technical and business arrangements, local and 
military, had been completed. Now, however, the Y has 
signed its contracts for leasing buildings and hiring labor and 
artistic talent; and the big enterprise is under way. Big it 
certainly is, the biggest thing by a good deal that the Y 
has yet attempted over here, and a brand new task, too, for 
the American Army, I believe, is the first to attempt such 
elaborate provision for its men on leave. It involves the 
taking over of almost the whole hotel accommodations and 
amusement facilities of two large cities and another smaller 
community. You probably know the region in which this 
work is situated and the names of the cities, for I understand 
that the censor has allowed these facts to be announced in 
the press at home and in Paris; but we ourselves here have 
not yet received any official notice that the usual rule to 
mention no names of places has been changed in this instance, 
so I am not at liberty to depart from the customary "some- 
where." As an indication of the scale on which we are 
preparing, I may mention that in one building which the 
Y will use here, it is planned to have three entertainments 
going simultaneously every week-night, movies, theatre, 
and either a concert or a lecture. And we calculate that this 
will be necessary in order to provide for the number of men 
expected. 

We have now a force of ten or twelve Y workers here, 
men and women, all of whom are very busy; and whenever 
we are not at work on our own particular jobs, or helping the 
workers in some other department, we are in conference. For 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 41 

with several departments working side by side for the same 
group of men, and forced to create the whole scheme in a brief 
space of time, it is very necessary to submit our individual 
plans frequently to the whole group, to be sure that each 
part dovetails into all the others. At the same time, we have 
to keep close watch of public sentiment here, so as to preserve 
the fine feeling which has thus far marked all our relations 
with these cordial French people. 

As one of the longest on the field, I have had the special 
privilege of aiding a good deal in the dealings with the French, 
and have been brought into close relation with two or three 
individuals for whom I have come to feel a very real friend- 
ship. My progress in speaking French has been noticeable, 
too, and still more in understanding it. I think I have learned 
more in the last three weeks than in the three months pre- 
ceding. I surprise myself by carrying on long conversations ; 
and although I have a pitifully small vocabulary, almost 
without verbs, I do manage to get along fairly well. Of course, 
I get on best in performing certain tasks that have to be 
frequently repeated; as, for instance, for several days I 
have been doing a good deal of the work of inspecting the 
hotels offered for our soldiers, and classifying them on the 
basis of convenience, cleanliness, location, etc. You should 
hear me lecturing French landladies on the subject of cleanli- 
ness and proper sanitation. One who did not know that I had 
repeated my lecture some dozens of times, in houses where 
conditions seemed to call for it, might think that I was quite 
a fluent French scholar. My guide in these real estate 
excursions is Dr. Frangon, who sometimes arranges our 
itinerary so as to take in also a visit to one of his patients. 
Then, while he is inside, I converse with the neighbors. To- 
day, for instance, it was with a smiling rosy-cheeked young 
fellow of barely twenty, who has nevertheless had time to 
serve nine months in the war and lose his right arm in the 
service. Almost always those I talk to in these chance 
encounters have some vital personal relation to the world 
tragedy. If they are not soldiers themselves, they are the 
mothers or brothers or wives of soldiers. That is the eternal 



42 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

sadness which runs through all our experiences in these days. 
While I was talking to that boy this afternoon, in the midst 
of a quaint setting of French houses, the last rays of the sun 
were glorifying a mountain, whose cliffs rise abruptly above 
us on the east, making them beautiful beyond description. 
For a few moments, under the spell of such beauties, one drops 
into the old way of thinking, "What a beautiful place the 
world is!" and then the thought comes surging back, "The 
War!" and blots out everything else. These boys, for whose 
brief playtime we are preparing, are here in France for some- 
thing very different from play. So, while we are bound that 
they shall have "the time of their lives," during their stay 
here, there is always a deeper purpose in our preparations. 
We mean that they shall go back to camp and the trenches, 
not only with new vigor and the memory of a happy time, but 
with new hope, new purpose, and new inspiration for the high 
task in which they are engaged, and for the perils and hard- 
ships involved in it. 

February 14. The women, under the direction of Mrs. 
Teddy Roosevelt, Jr., have been doing wonders, such as 
cleaning and furnishing two large club-houses, opening a 
restaurant, bargaining for the whole milk supply of a cheese 
manufacturer, hiring a small army of servants, etc., etc. 
The men have been preparing athletic fields, bathing and 
boating facilities, hiring an orchestra, engaging dramatic 
talent in Paris, and, as a foundation for all this, arranging 
the hotel accommodations for the thousands of men who are 
expected here. 

Besides the preparations for the work of my own depart- 
ment I have been putting in a great deal of time on this hotel 
problem, inspecting and classifying hotels and houses in all 
three communities, and helping to settle the innumerable 
questions of policy and procedure that are constantly arising. 
To-day at the Mairie we had a meeting with all the hotel- 
keepers; and when we were all in our places, the Mayor at 
the centre of the long horse-shoe-shaped table, five of us 
secretaries next to him, and then the crowd of men and 
women who filled every available inch, and breathed up every 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 43 

particle of air (of course, the windows were all tightly closed), 
I confess that I felt very much as though we secretaries were 
five Daniels in khaki in a den of French lions. For there 
were such knotty questions to be solved as, whether one egg 
should be added to the breakfast menu, how the supply of 
sugar, flour, and coal was to be equitably distributed, how 
the men are to be apportioned among the hotels on their 
arrival, and other questions equally likely to cause trouble- 
some disagreement. But all passed off amicably; even the 
question of the egg for breakfast was decided in the affirmative. 
Of course, we have had many disappointments and un- 
pleasant surprises. Worst of all has been the discovery of 
radical defects in the heating system of our luxurious Casino 
here — the famous gambling establishment which we are 
turning into a Y hut. It is no easy task to repair a steam 
plant, when the only man capable of repairing it is in the 
Army, and has to be gotten home for the purpose by special 
permission from the War Department. Again, only one of our 
two carloads of supplies has arrived, and most of us are groan- 
ing at items that are missing from our equipment: no cho- 
colate for the restaurant; no cigarettes for the canteen; no 
books for the library; no magazines or American newspapers 
(except the ones I've been saving); no coffee urns; no movie 
films until after dinner this evening, when they happily 
arrived ; no hymn books except the ones I fortunately brought 
by hand from Paris, when I came. Two of our men were away 
for four days hunting in several different cities for various 
necessities, such as coal, sugar, rice, billiard tables, water 
heaters, chairs. To-day we have been doing the last things 
with regard to the ceremonies which will celebrate the arrival 
of our first permissionnaires , that is, our men on leave. 

The First Arrivals 

February 19. How can I describe to you the work that 
I am now sharing? The whole thing is so big, and so varied 
in its detail, that I despair of making you see it as it is, es- 
pecially as I have once more gotten into the perfect whirl of Y 
activity, and have barely any time for writing letters. Don't 



44 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

worry, though, that I am repeating my earlier mistake of 
overdoing. 

You already understand, I think, what our work here is. 
We are at the first place selected as the place for American 
soldiers to go when on leave, that is, for their brief week of 
vacation, and the whole problem of housing the men and 
amusing them has been given over absolutely to the Y. The 
Army only stands by to aid if called upon, and the Y is the 
whole show. And it is some show. Although I had had a 
good deal to do with the preparations, I had not appreciated 
what a tremendous undertaking it was, till the men had 
actually begun to arrive. The second day after the opening I 
said to Karl Cate, the man who really organized and launched 
the whole plan, "Well, how do you feel, now that your plans 
are taking actual shape?" and he answered, "I feel dazed." 

I wish you could have seen the arrival of those first troops. 
Only one other experience over here has moved me as much, 
and that was the arrival of the troop ships, which I saw more 
than once in the early days of my stay, but could not then 
even mention in my letters. Never shall I forget the slow 
progress into the harbor of ship after ship, each thronged with 
our boys in khaki, so that you hardly saw the ship, but only 
the boys. Well, the arrival of our boys here, the first to come 
for their leave, was as thrilling as that, for they came here 
straight from the trenches, with the mud thick on their boots 
and clothes, and wearing their steel helmets, and looking like 
war; not the neat and gay crowd that thronged the decks at 
their arrival in France, but men who had been up to the front, 
and tasted the real hardships and perils of the trenches. I 
was glad and proud to have the French people here see them 
dirty and tired, with their muddy clothes and the signs of 
real service plain upon them, not unworthy to stand beside 
the poilu in his dingy blue. 

And then to see the transformation. It seemed barely an 
hour before they were streaming into our palatial Casino, 
washed and spruced up, with their natty barracks caps on their 
heads instead of the uncomfortable and ungainly helmets, 
and already a more rested look on their faces, as though the 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 45 

strain were beginning to let up. Of course, some of them were 
complaining and dissatisfied, especially that first day when 
things didn't run very sm.oothly, but most of them began at 
once to enjoy themselves. We have a wealth of entertainment 
for them, and this beautiful region, aided by superb sun- 
shiny weather, offers every possible out-of-door attraction; 
but the joy that I have heard most often mentioned is the 
beds. To sleep in a real bed between sheets, and to lie as 
late in the morning as you choose, that appears to be the 
height of bliss. One boy said to me to-day (he arrived yester- 
day) that the bed was so soft he couldn't get used to it: it 
kept him awake. Another boy, commenting on the same 
luxury, said that it made him dream of being at home, all 
night long, "I think I must have dreamt of it fifty times 
during the night," he said. 

Some of the boys, in spite of all the hard work they have 
been doing, are off at once on bicycles or climbing the moun- 
tain on an all-day hike. Others just luxuriate in sitting 
around. Most of them love to talk, and we secretaries con- 
sider it one of our privileges to provide them with interested 
listeners. Their stories must be very accurate, I think, for 
I've heard the same incidents half a dozen times from different 
men. Of course, I try to act just as surprised at the sixth 
hearing as at the first, for the least thing you can do for these 
boys, who have been up "where the big noise is," as they say, 
is to listen to their yarns of " the War as we have mixed in it." 

My work in the religious department is in full swing. The 
second day the boys were here was Sunday, and we had 
Morning Service, a regular Church Service (held, by the way, 
in a room formerly devoted to high-class gambling: for this 
Casino of ours has been almost as famous as Monte Carlo 
for that). We had a good turn-out of the boys right in the 
middle of the morning, though a bright sun was shining out- 
side. In the evening we had our bigger meeting, held in the 
theatre, with the assistance of an orchestra, a military band, 
and two quartettes. I confess the musical end of it was a 
little top-heavy. But as a whole it was a fine meeting, and 
we'll know better another time than to try to have singing 



46 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

indoors led by a brass band of fifty-six pieces! Beginning 
Monday we have had a daily twenty-minute Vesper Service, 
and I've been surprised myself at the way the boys have come, 
from thirty to fifty each day. We have with us as a speaker 
for the week Dr. Crawford, President of Allegheny College, 
Pennsylvania, who is celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary 
of his presidency by coming over here for Y work. Also we 
have a Roman Catholic Chaplain, a fine fellow. 

In addition to the work of the religious department, I 
have taken the direction of the Information Bureau, with the 
assistance of one man and two women who give part of their 
time to it. For although there are about twenty-five workers 
here now, we are dreadfully understaffed for this huge under- 
taking, and each of us is carrying at least two jobs. You 
should see my works of art on the bulletin boards, announcing 
hikes, movies, band concerts, and vaudeville, and telling how 
to get your clothes mended, where to rent bicycles, what to 
do if you are sick, etc., etc., etc. The Information Bureau 
is a most desirable station for anyone who wants to get into 
personal touch with the boys, for there is a constant stream 
of them coming there for every imaginable sort of help; 
and out of rush hours they find it a natural place to come to 
and talk. 

Margaret Deland is one of our women workers, and is very 
enthusiastic about everything. E. H. Sothern is here for a 
week. Loie Fuller, the famous dancer, has arrived; and is, 
by the way, an ardent supporter of the religious services. 
The three younger dancers, too, whom she has brought with 
her, nice English girls, already familiarly known to all as 
Fairy, Finesse, and Peach, bring a train of boys with them to 
hear Dr. Crawford at the daily Vespers — one of the reasons, 
doubtless, for the surprising success of those Services. Gerry 
Reynolds, who has made a great hit with the boys wherever he 
has gone, has been sent down from Paris as director of the 
entertainment department, a big job. And the head of the 
whole enterprise is Franklin S. Edmonds of Philadelphia. 

Yesterday I received in one mail from the family and 
friends at home fifty-two newspapers and forty-nine maga- 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 47 

zines! It is a perfect Godsend for the work, for no maga- 
zines have reached us from Paris. Practically everything in 
the reading-rooms in the two cities is from my private supply, 
and it makes quite a show too. The five "Saturday Evening 
Posts" that came yesterday are being eagerly devoured, and a 
doughboy who is quartered here in the house where I myself 
live has been reading the February "Century" all the after- 
noon and evening. 

A Varied Programme 

February 26. We have had a very eventful week, and 
feel that our venture is a great success. As more and more 
men have arrived, the town has become gayer, and the Casino 
has taken on more and more the air of the huge pleasure 
palace that we have intended it to be. To see its great rooms 
and halls literally thronged with men in khaki has been a tre- 
mendous satisfaction, and still more to note the growing 
chorus of approval and appreciation. 

The roads in every direction roundabout are full of men on 
bicycles or afoot. In the evenings they flock in for the theatre 
and movies, and on special nights there is a perfect mob, as 
for instance on "Stunt Night" when the men themselves 
provide the numbers on the programme, and still more on 
the night of the "Costume Ball." This last was really one of 
the funniest performances ever witnessed. It was amazing to 
see the costumes which the men produced: American in- 
genuity was thoroughly illustrated. The French people, who 
came in to look on, seemed fairly bewildered by the whole 
performance, and it really was astonishing to witness the 
fun and high spirits of men who have just come from the 
hard and terrible experiences of the front, and are going back 
to them when the short leave is over. 

The only thing that is not joyous about the whole enter- 
prise is the fact that the vacations come to an end, and every 
day some of our friends appear in their steel helmets, with 
their packs on their backs, to say good-bye. How they do 
hate to go, and yet not one but goes with a fine spirit of 
courage and readiness to see the thing through. I can tell 



48 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

you it's a much harder thing to go hack to the trenches, than 
it was to go up to them the first time. Yes, you would all be 
proud to see the way your fellow-countrymen in khaki accept 
their share of the peril, and also of the hardship which I really 
think is even harder to face. Mud and wet and cold for weeks 
together are a severer test of courage than shell-fire, I'm 
inclined to believe. The spirit with which our men take it all 
is well illustrated by a remark from one of them, made to me 
the other day. He had told me how his shoes were often 
frozen stiff in the morning, "so stiff," as he said, "that you 
can't possibly get them on." "But what do you do, then?" 
I asked him. "Put them on, just the same," said he. 

I cannot tell you how proud we have been of the bearing 
and behavior of our boys while here on leave. Here they are, 
after months of the greatest hardship and strain, spent under 
strict surveillance of officers and military police, and then, 
when they come here, they are suddenly given complete inde- 
pendence, the only restriction being that they must stay 
within the ample bounds of the Leave Area; and yet their 
behavior as a whole has been simply splendid. Of course, 
some have tried to have the regulation "good time" — once or 
twice in the evening I have piloted to their hotels boys whose 
inability to find their way was not wholly due to their un- 
familiarity with the street plan of the city — but these have 
been the few exceptions. The credit is to be shared, I think, 
between the boys themselves and the Y, which has given them 
such a good time of a decent sort. 

March 17. Since I last wrote you, we have received per- 
mission to mention the name of this place, when we write 
home. I presume you already know it from the newspapers 
or some other source, but it is a satisfaction to be able to 
say right out that I am at Aix-les-Bains, in Savoie. The other 
main centre of the Leave Area is the delightful old city of 
Chambery, about fifty kilometres to the south. When I was 
down there a few days ago, I went on a hunt for something in 
the way of a church bell, and found one in a funny little brass- 
workers' shop near the Castle. I used it this morning for the 
first time in the call to a nine o'clock Communion Service. 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 49 

During this past week we have provided boat excursions, 
mountain railway trips, day trip to Chambery, walk about 
the city of Aix personally conducted, hikes and mountain 
climbs, a basket-ball game, a baseball game, with formal 
opening of our athletic grounds, tennis, vaudeville, a play by 
professionals, movies, band concerts, orchestra concerts, 
piano and vocal concert, stag dances, amateur dramatics, 
evening of parlor games. Vesper Services, Sunday Services, 
Communion Service. 

On one of the boat trips, I was detailed to go along and 
help. We took two boat-loads of the boys across the lake to 
a very interesting old Abbey, I'Abbaye Hautecombe, which 
they inspected. Then in a delightful place warmed by the 
midday sun, overlooking the lake and made gay by primroses 
in blossom, we had lunch. Hot coffee and sandwiches had 
been sent around by motor, and "dogs" were provided, 
which the boys broiled on sticks over camp-fires. It seemed 
like a genuine American picnic, and the pleasure of the boys in 
it, especially in the homelikeness of it, would have done your 
hearts good. That is a sample of the great satisfaction of this 
work, the chance to give a rest and a bit of home and a word 
of good cheer and uplift to the boys who are with such splendid 
spirit enduring the hardships of army life, and now are meeting 
its sterner demands with such genuine American courage and 
efficiency. If only the home folks could see them here, what 
comfort they would take; to see their boys looking so well, 
carrying themselves with such manly self-control, expressing, 
though often in army slang of course, the high ideals and 
purposes of the nation they represent. They have completely 
won the hearts of the French people here; and as for us older 
Americans, who cheer, them from the side lines, we have no 
words to express the pride and confidence that they inspire in 
us. 

March 25. The work has been running along smoothly for 
the past week, and that is saying a good deal, considering what 
an elaborate programme the Y puts on. To be sure, we have 
had only moderate numbers of men recently, for we are in an 
intermediate period from the army point of view, some Of the 



50 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

fundamental army plans having been under revision. That, 
we understand, is now accomplished ; and we shall soon have a 
chance once more to see whether our smooth-running machine 
will stand the strain of "big business" and "capacity houses." 
I have great confidence that it will. 

Have I reported that our evening amusements have been 
extended by the arrival of a theatrical stock company from 
America (in the Y uniform)? Besides the full-length play, 
"Baby Mine," which the boys have hugely enjoyed, they 
gave us a delightful representation the other night of some 
scenes from "The Taming of the Shrew." It was interesting 
to note how thoroughly the boys enjoyed that also. In the 
same way concerts of serious music hold good-sized audiences. 

On the other hand, it is delightful to see how they take 
to the more primitive kinds of amusement, as, for instance, 
the other evening, when a lot of horns and policemen's rattles 
were distributed just before a "Stunt Night" performance, 
in order that the audience might take active part in the show. 
The men were standing around in the spacious halls of the 
Casino, with their marble columns and mosaic ceilings and 
the blaze of electric lights, halls where the rich and fashionable 
of the world used to display themselves in peace times. 
Suddenly, as the first of the noise-producing instruments were 
distributed, weird sounds began to be heard in various direc- 
tions, and in a moment perfect pandemonium reigned. It 
continued without cessation until the show began fifteen 
minutes later, and the faces of the few sedate French people 
who were there were a study. 

Preparing for Easter 

March 30. Holy Week, never more worthy of the name 
than here and now, is drawing to a close. Not a week given 
over to the exclusive thought of the deep things of life, for it 
has been a week of joyous occupation for our boys here, who 
are having their short breathing-space, after long months of 
weary training, and just before they may be plunged — who 
knows? — into the very midst of this terrific battle now going 
on such a short distance away. There have been excursions 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 51 

and athletics, a big picnic, a boxing bout, music and dancing, 
theatre and the movies. But in the midst of it all, at the 
heart of it, a serious note of reverence and noble purpose. 
I wish you could have looked in upon our Good Friday Service 
yesterday afternoon, the room well filled, faces that the 
preacher will long remember, some of the men to start for 
the front two hours later. When I rang the church bell, 
they came flocking in in much larger numbers than to the 
regular daily Vesper Service, answering the Good Friday 
call; and I could feel their response from the first moment, 
when I began the service with a word in which I tried to 
turn their thoughts to the triumph and glory of Christ's 
heroic death (away from the sadness of it) and so to make 
them feel their comradeship with him, in the course on which 
they themselves had entered, and to feel the need of that 
comradeship. I think they felt it far beyond what any words 
of mine could make them. 

To-day again (Saturday) at the Vesper Service we had 
an unusual number — not a great many at that, you under- 
stand, yet very good, I am sure you would have thought, 
for an audience of young soldiers at a religious service at 
five o'clock on a weekday afternoon. And now, in the even- 
ing, I am looking forward to Easter. The boys are at the 
theatre, and I have come home to think through my Easter 
message for to-morrow morning. I haven't had time up to 
now to do more than give it broken thoughts at odd moments — 
rather different from the long mornings of careful prepara- 
tion for such a day in Central Church pulpit. But Fve been 
busy speaking at the Services of the week, making and putting 
up signs on the big bulletin board, running the Information 
Desk, and last but not least building a church. For that is 
what it has amounted to. 

Up to now, as I have indicated in previous letters, we 
have had our main Sunday Service in the theatre, a most 
unsatisfactory place, except that it was the only quiet room 
which could be warmed in cold weather. Now that the 
weather is warmer, there is another large hall, set off by itself, 
which is available. But what do you suppose it is? — The 



52 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

great Salle des Jeux, or Gambling Hall, of pre-war days. It 
is that that I have been busy transforming into a Cathedral, 
which will be dedicated to the uses of religion at our Easter 
Services. 

When I was a child we were always allowed to spend our 
Sunday afternoons in the nursery "playing church." When 
all was ready, there was in truth a brief Service with a parson 
(my first attempts), a choir, and a congregation, these last 
two being impersonated by just two persons, my sister 
and a cousin; or, if my cousin was not there, we dispensed 
with the congregation as being the least important, or, in 
other words, the least interesting part. But the Service 
was, after all, a small part of the entire performance: we 
usually spent most of the afternoon in building the church 
out of tables, chairs, boxes, a doll's piano, the fire fender, 
and other suitable materials. 

This week I seem to have been reverting to that childhood 
game, but on a scale truly magnificent. I began with the 
huge empty hall, rather ornate in decoration and chilling in 
its general aspect; moreover, with a distressing echo that 
threatened to defeat any preacher's eloquence. I called to my 
aid the concierge, the electrician, the tapissier (upholsterer), 
and the gardener, all among the regular employees of our 
Casino and taken over by the Y as a part of its contract 
with the Gambling Association. After that, it was like waving 
a magic wand. Comfortable chairs were produced by the 
score from one storeroom ; curtains were brought from another. 
The indefatigable little tapissier with his helpers, including a 
French blesse in his uniform of "horizon blue," performed 
acrobatic feats on high ladders in hanging draperies over the 
bare windows of the clere-story (you see the ecclesiastical is 
beginning to gain ascendency). At once the hall lost its 
appearance of bareness, and instead of the echo, behold, 
excellent acoustics. From the garden and greenhouse came 
a wealth of palms and all manner of green plants. A pulpit 
desk was found among the properties of the theatre: the 
tapissier, entering into the spirit of the enterprise, presented, 
"as a friendly gift to the Y. M. C. A. for their religious 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 55 

service," a beautiful cover for the desk, made of rose-colored 
velours edged with gold: and to complete the whole I found 
in one of the hotels a large English Bible. Not that we Y 
people lack Bibles, but they are all the little khaki-covered 
pocket ones; and it did not seem as though our church would 
be complete, unless something that at least approximated 
"the great pulpit Bible" could be at the centre of the whole. 

An organ, also a product of the theatrical department, 
is at one side of the pulpit, and beyond it seats for chorus 
choir and orchestra. The chairs for the audience are skilfully 
arranged, if I do say so, for I spent an hour devising the 
scheme and trying it out, the scheme being, so to dispose 
the seats that the congregation will just naturally take the 
front seats, or at least not the back ones, yet without realizing 
that they have been cajoled into doing it. If it works as I 
expect it will. Central Church may be in some danger of 
having its entire ground plan revised when I get home again, 
for I seem to remember a certain doorward tendency on 
the part of the congregation there. 

So now all is ready for to-morrow. Even the hymn- 
sheets (substitutes for hymn books) are folded, the signs are 
posted, in my best handwriting (three inches high), the bell 
is hung and ready to be rung and tolled — and I must really 
stop writing you about it, and get my sermon ready. 

The Hut de Luxe 

April 5. I realize how much I have left undescribed in 
my letters, how much not even mentioned. For instance, 
I cannot remember that I have given you any connected 
description of our wonderful Casino, " Le Grand Cercle," 
which is the home of the Y here in Aix. Possibly I have said 
more about it than I recall, but I will run the risk of repetition, 
and take you through it now on a personally conducted 
tour. 

As you walk along the street with me in the centre of the 
city, you see a building that even among the substantial 
hotels, apartment houses, and banks attracts your special 
attention. The entrance, designed like a triumphal arch, 



54 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

stands at the middle of a long central building, beyond which 
are two large wings; the whole is surrounded by trees, shrubs, 
and flower beds and is enclosed by a high iron railing, on which 
at intervals are displayed shields (the coats of arms of France, 
of Savoie, and of the United States) and the flags of the two 
nations. We pass an American soldier, evidently just arrived 
in town, and, seeing the Y brassard on my arm, he stops me to 
ask "Where is the Y?" I point to the great white building at 
which you have been looking. "That?" he exclaims in un- 
disguised astonishment. "Sure thing," I answer; "come 
along with us, and I'll show you around our million-dollar /?«/." 

Inside the imposing entrance, you see on your left a door- 
way leading to the theatre ticket-office and beyond that to 
the office of Mr. Edmonds, our Chief Secretary for the whole 
Savoie Leave Area. But I see you are looking at the big 
bulletin boards which cover the walls on left and right and 
overflow onto a standing sign-board which has recently been 
added to our equipment. There is a section for to-day's 
programme, and another for to-morrow's. Another section is 
given over to notices of permanent interest. Please notice 
the row of soldiers standing in front of these bulletins and 
considering which of the advertised attractions they will 
take in. 

We pass on now into the long hall which runs the length 
of the building at right angles to the entrance vestibule. In 
it, a little to the right, is the Information Desk, draped with 
the flags of France, America, and England, and brightened by 
flowers (hyacinths and daffodils they happen to be to-day). 
Mrs. Anderson, of Colorado, is the woman now on duty, and 
at the other end of the huge oak desk is Senator Benson, of 
California. Dr. Cooke, formerly of Japan, is in the back- 
ground, making a sign to announce that there will be an 
athletic meet to-morrow afternoon. The mail-box for the 
letters of the Y staff is on one side, and under the capacious 
desk, if we who are in charge of this department are willing 
to confess it, is a horrible collection of baseball bats and tennis 
rackets, a violin, a box of costumes used in last night's show, 
an overcoat that some soldier has asked us to keep for him, 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 55 

and various other odds and ends; for whatever has no other 
abiding-place is Hable to be deposited with "Information." 
Turning now to the right, you pass a large coat room ; and 
beyond a doorway and a corridor (where we have many war 
maps and maps of this region displayed) you reach the beauti- 
ful reading-room and library, a quiet place, well supplied now 
with literature. Upstairs near the reading-room is the Chap- 
lains' room (where I wrote the first part of this letter, with a 
very bad pen) and up another flight are the movie man's repair- 
rooms, the photographer's dark-room, and other work-rooms 
of that sort. 

Descending and partly retracing our steps, we reach the 
spacious foyer of the theatre, and then the theatre itself, 
most complete in auditorium and stage. It seats nearly a 
thousand. The foyer now holds four of our eight billiard 
tables, and it opens out on the terrace, which is a delightful 
place on a sunny day. A daily French class meets there 
afternoons. Next to the foyer is the large Movie Hall, used 
also for lectures, as, for instance, one this evening, after 
Evening Service (it is Sunday now — April 7) on "What 
America is Doing in the War" by our Chief Secretary, Mr. 
Edmonds. On the other side of the Movie Hall is the restau- 
rant. All of these rooms are very high, with marble columns, 
arched or domed ceilings decorated with rich mosaics, stained 
glass windows, frescoes, handsome draperies, and innumerable 
electric lights. Along one side of the restaurant is the canteen, 
in what was formerly the bar. 

In the corridor outside of the restaurant are the rest of the 
billiard tables. And now we have reached the part of the 
building formerly devoted to gambling, for, as you know, this 
was a second Monte Carlo. By a strange turn of fate, in 
which we have gleefully co-operated, you have also come now 
to the part of the building which at present, under the Y 
regime, is used for religious purposes. The small room which 
you next enter, capable of holding a hundred people, is where 
we hold our smaller Services, such as daily Vespers, the Sunday 
Morning Service, and the Communion Service. A glass door 
separates it from the former bar, and indeed the words "Royal 



56 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

Bar" appear on the glass. A door on the opposite side of the 
room leads into the grand hall which I described to you a 
week ago in my Easter letter, the great gambling hall that we 
have transformed into a church for our larger meetings. 

This very inadequate description will at least give you 
some notion of the splendid building we have to work in. 

While the Germans Still Advanced 

April 15. Knowing the general war situation, you will 
understand without my telling you that our particular part of 
the Y work is quite out of gear at present. We hope and 
expect that these conditions are temporary and will be of 
brief duration, but meantime it would have been wrong to 
keep here the whole of our very large force (fifty or more), 
doing nothing. So two-thirds of them are scattering, and 
only enough are being retained to keep the organization 
intact, and make it possible to reconstitute the whole on 
twenty-four hours' notice. In general, the plan is to hold 
here the whole business force, the heads of the various de- 
partments (athletic, entertainment, religious, women's work), 
and a few other workers. This reduced staff includes Mrs. 
Deland, the authoress; Miss Annable, a treasure; Miss O'Con- 
nor, one of our best executives; Miss Saltonstall, the sole 
survivor of the theatrical stock company. Of the men, there 
are Carrell, the athletic director, a host in himself; Guy 
Maier, a talented musician, in the entertainment department; 
Snediker, another out-door man; Messrs. Howarth, Sten- 
burg, and Martin, of the business department; Mr. Bond, our 
theatrical manager; Dr. Cooke, who works with me and 
in the main office; and myself. Mr. Edmonds, our chief, will 
be here every other week; and Frank Smith will take charge 
in his absence. We shall greatly miss those who are now 
leaving, and I regret especially the loss of Dr. Denison, who 
has given the boys no end of pleasure with his car, and whose 
talks and sermons have been an inspiration to us all. 

For the few soldiers who are on duty here and the small 
numbers of others who are sent here on leave even under 
present conditions, we must keep up some sort of pro- 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 57 



gramme, indoors and out. As our professional vaudeville 
artists have been temporarily dismissed, and the stock com- 
pany now goes "on the road," and there will be of course little 
talent among the men to fall back upon, we must bestir our- 
selves, those of us who remain, to invent and provide the 
amusement needed. Each of us is thinking what he or she 
can contribute, or how we can combine to produce something. 

A Visit to Grenoble 

April 29. I may have mentioned in an earlier letter that 
ten days ago some of us drove about fifty miles to a place 
where a small group of American soldiers is stationed, to 
carry canteen supplies and see just what chance there was 
for helping the boys there. We found then that Sunday is 
the best day to visit them, as they are free on that day, so 
we planned to go the next time on a Sunday, and yesterday 
we carried out that plan. We arranged the party so as to 
include one of the women, and happily it occurred to me that 
it would be fine to have some refreshments which she could 
serve, thus giving a sort of homelike touch to the whole. 
That proved to be a most popular feature of our visit. 

We felt complimented that when the sergeant announced 
in the morning that some of the Y people from Aix would 
visit them that day and would hold a religious Service before 
midday mess, every single man in the outfit stayed in barracks 
to receive us. Of course, the main thing that this indicated 
was their hunger for contact with some of their fellow-country- 
men besides those of their own group— for they are quite 
alone there, among French soldiers — but whatever the reason, 
it was delightful to us to feel that our visit was anticipated 
with such pleasure. 

We had gotten up that morning at six-thirty so as to make 
an early start from Aix, and had driven through what would 
have been glorious scenery, could we have seen it; but the 
clouds came rolling down the valley soon after we started, 
and we were in them until near our destination, when by a 
steep zig-zag descent we came down from the mountains into 
the broad valley where the city lies. 



58 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

The boys there have their luncheon very early, so we had 
just time to get the stuff out of the car and arrange for heating 
up the chocolate we had brought (already mixed in a big urn), 
when it was time to begin the Service. It was held right in 
the barracks, the men sitting on benches beside a long central 
table or on the ends of their bunks on either side. We had 
no piano or other musical instrument, but one of the boys 
started the hymns, and they went pretty well. (Sometimes 
on such occasions there is nothing for it but for me to start 
the tune myself. It scares me most out of my wits, and the 
result is usually a key way up, or way down, but it "goes," 
like many other makeshifts in war days.) 

Already the boys had shown plainly how glad they were 
to see us, and their faces lighted up still more when they heard 
that there was to be a sort of "party" right after mess. 
While they were eating — it took them only about fifteen 
minutes to put it down — we got things ready. Mrs. Anderson, 
our woman-worker, one of our best, invaded the French mess 
shack, and charmed the French cook, so as to expedite the 
heating of the chocolate. She stood over it, stirring vigorously 
to keep it from burning. An ofhcer (French) came in during 
the process, and she said his face, on seeing a woman so much 
at home there, was a study. He soon recovered his equanim- 
ity, however, and did the honors in true French style, among 
other things insisting on her sampling each article of food 
that the boys were getting, soup, meat, and mashed potatoes, 
all very good, she says. 

When the boys came back from their lunch they found 
spread out on the table a free treat in the way of cigarettes, 
chocolate almond bars, sweet crackers, and chewing gum, all 
of which (except the last item) were bought for them with 
money sent to me for some such purpose. The giver would 
have been pleased, I am sure, to see the happy look on the 
boys' faces at hearing that this was all a gift to them "from 
the folks back home." 

Soon Mrs. Anderson was serving the chocolate, that is, 
she turned the faucet of the urn while the boys held the big 
cups from their mess-kits under it. Meantime the victrola 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA sg 

(a gift from the Y) had been started in a far corner of the 
barracks, "our favorite tune" as one of them said, laughing. 
I went over to hear it, and found that it was a song of many 
verses with a chorus to the effect that "Another little drink, 
another little drink, another little drink, won't do us any 
harm." This seemed so appropriate to the occasion (with 
perhaps a change of beverage from that intended by the 
author) that I made the boys bring it up next to the chocolate 
urn, and give it over again, while Mrs. Anderson supplied 
them with their second round. 

Meantime our "chauffeurette," the little French girl who 
drives our Ford touring-car, was sewing a loose chevron onto 
a coat sleeve for one of the sergeants, just to prove that in 
spite of her short-clipped hair and generally boyish appearance, 
and her man's job, she had not neglected old-fashioned woman- 
ly accomplishments. The boys stood around in a circle two- 
deep to see her do it, and to hear her talk English with the 
delicious French accent that she has. Around Mrs. Anderson 
was a still larger circle, and we men had smaller groups, telling 
us about their work and their experiences in other parts of 
France and on the journey over. I ought to mention that 
when it was discovered that we had arrived with a flat tire, 
about a dozen men combined to replace it in record time. 

Before we left, several of the older men took occasion to 
say to me that it meant a lot to the whole bunch to have us 
come, gave them new courage to go on with a rather hard 
and trying job.* And indeed, we could feel for ourselves that 
the whole place seemed to change in an indefinable but very 
apparent manner while we were there. I don't know when we 
have had a chance to do anything that seemed more worth 
while. 

Play Time and Train Time 

May 6. I may have told you already that the keeping of 
the "Log" is one of my jobs, an outgrowth of my management 
of the Information Desk and bulletin boards. The record 

*Work in a "gas" factory. 



6o ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

in it reminds me that this week, as usual, the boys went on a 
picnic one day to the regular picnic place across the lake. 
We were reduced to row-boats, for the motor-boat was not 
available. It is a stiff row, chiefly because the boats are big old 
tubs, and it certainly seems as though the boys were working 
for their fun. Nevertheless they had a baseball game after 
they had eaten their lunch, and in the evening at the Casino 
were keen for a dance. 

On another day there was a trip to the top of one of the 
mountains, where there is a hotel kept by a Scotch lady who 
is noted for the hot biscuits she makes (in spite of war restric- 
tions). When autos are available it is an easy trip, fairly 
luxurious. But this time bicycles had to be substituted, aided 
by a lift on the railroad to the mountain's base. It was a long 
up-grade from there, and a few dropped out and gave it up; 
but those who persevered and sampled the biscuits and other 
good things to eat, and then had the glorious long coast home, 
were so delighted with their outing that they declared they 
were going to do it again before their leave was up. We have 
had two baseball games in the week; and another one was 
scheduled for Sunday afternoon, but was prevented by rain. 
For Stunt Night this past week we had a new feature, a min- 
strel show which was really capital. We have one natural 
comedian in our own staff, Henry Carrell, and at that time 
there happened to be several soldiers here who were great fun- 
makers. 

You can see by all this that the boys by no means spend 
their time in idleness. On the other hand, there are some, of 
course, who need and greatly enjoy the opportunity to rest. 
They spend much time in the library, especially in the capa- 
cious leather arm-chairs. Sometimes you can see one of them 
who has fallen asleep there. They have even been known to 
break the customary quiet of that apartment by loud snoring. 
Many of them, even those who go in for plenty of exercise, do 
not get around till late in the morning; and a few, who have 
come here more tired than the rest, spend the best part of their 
first days in bed. One chap, who stopped here for a chat since 
I began this letter (I'm at the Information Desk), said he 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 6i 

seemed to be getting more sleepy each day instead of less so, 
the result, I suppose, of a long period of broken sleep. 

Sunday was a busy day. There was Communion at 9 
o'clock, conducted by one of my colleagues, a high-church 
Episcopalian. The Morning Service was in my hands, and 
I was particularly glad to have a good representation of the 
boys there, for I'd had a message taking shape in my mind 
that I wanted to get across to them. There are many things 
that take on a new aspect over here, perhaps not so much new 
truths, but certainly truths that, if old as the gospel, seem new 
in the fierce bright light that to-day shines upon them. A 
man who is trying to preach the truth of Christianity in these 
days wants more than ever before to get right to the heart of 
the thing and speak it out plainly. In the evening we had a 
Song Service, sitting around in a circle in the library, and I 
read to them from Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables" that 
wonderful story of Jean Valjean and the good bishop. 

Many of the things we do I do not speak of, because they 
happen so often that one forgets to mention them, like eating 
one's meals. There is, for instance, the bidding good-bye to the 
out-going groups. This takes place almost every day, and yet 
there is perhaps nothing that speaks more eloquently of the 
work here than that daily event. As many of us as can do so 
go down to the station, and day after day it is the same story, 
yet always new. There are usually a few of the boys who have 
been particularly prominent in the week's pleasures and who 
of course stand out prominently in the departing group. Up 
to the last minute the jolly ones are cracking their jokes as 
they lean from the car windows, or skylarking on the platform 
till just as the train moves. But almost always there is 
another look in their faces besides the smiles, which tells us 
that they are genuinely sorry to go, that they feel they are 
leaving friends. Some of them succeed in expressing what 
many are evidently feeling, though more often by the grip 
of their hands, as they say good-bye, than by words. The 
farewell is usually prolonged, for there is always a lot of 
baggage from a connecting train to be put aboard the boys' 
train after it comes in. At length, however, there is the shrill 



62 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

whistle that nearly deafens us, and the train starts. All the 
boys are hanging out of the windows, waving hats and hand- 
kerchiefs. We on the platform make our way to the very end 
and even a little way out into the yard among the switches and 
signals, and wave and wave till the train turns the curve, and 
disappears. You might think it would get to be an old story, 
doing it day after day, but it doesn't, even for those of us who 
are most regularly there. And I'm sure the boys are glad of the 
send-off, this final assurance that they are leaving friends be- 
hind. I fancy that the sight of those figures waving as long 
as they can be seen, especially the women, some of whom are 
always there — indeed all who are not definitely on duty else- 
where — makes a picture in the boys' memories that does not 
soon fade out. 

Adventures in High Life 

May 14. I have had my first personal introduction to 
royalty! As the season advances — and just now the country 
here is a perfect paradise — more and more civilian visitors 
come to Aix, among them many titled personages. If we 
had time, we might have luncheon or afternoon tea with a 
different "lady" or "princess" several times a week. And 
it is a great mixture of nationalities, English, French, Italian, 
Serbian, Belgian, and American, for a number of these titled 
ladies were born in the U. S. A. It was with some difficulty 
that we adjusted ourselves to the strain of hobnobbing with 
the nobility, but we had barely gotten used to that, when 
royalty arrived, in the person of the sister of the King of Bel- 
gium, the Duchess of Vendome, accompanied by her husband, 
the Duke (French), and her young daughter, the Princess. 

My own first encounter with these personages was at the 
formal opening of the Tennis Club of Aix, to which the Y 
staff was invited. We regarded it as a diplomatic necessity 
to be represented, and I was one of those detailed to that duty. 
We were told in stage whispers, after our arrival, that the 
Duchess of Vendome was there, and, after being told where 
she was seated, managed to glance at her occasionally in our 
politest manner. We supposed that that was as far as we 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 63 

should get, and were still more sure that the excitement was 
all over, when at length she and her party rose and went out. 
But in a moment she was back again, apparently to speak to 
Lady Strafford, at whose table we were sitting. It was some- 
thing of a shock to see Lady Strafford make a low curtsey, 
and I was scared to death for fear our Y women would try the 
same thing on the spur of the moment, and probably tumble 
over. Before we knew what had happened, we had been 
presented. I, as it chanced, was the first of the men, and was 
really glad that I didn't know what I was meant to do with 
her hand, when she held it out to me. As it was, I could just 
shake it, with a perfectly clear conscience; and the Duchess 
did not seem upset by such plebeian treatment. 

But the way these people play their game is really im- 
pressive. The Duchess, then and later at the Casino, asked 
such appropriate and intelligent questions that you could see 
she had been carefully "primed" in advance. I suppose there 
is always someone at her elbow to see that she has the right 
information at the right moment. You can imagine my sur- 
prise, however, when, as I was presented, she said, "And you 
have been here since the middle of January?" True, and 
of me only among the Y people present. Aren't they clever? 

The Lady Strafford, of whom I speak, was originally an 
American, from Louisiana, I believe. She is an entertaining 
talker; and, as she has seen many prominent Englishmen at 
close range, she gives a very interesting view of recent events. 
It is really curious to see the group of American women here 
now — just visitors at the hotels, you understand — who have 
married foreigners of wealth or rank and title. There is even 
a princess among them. In fact, I have been hobnobbing so 
much with the high and mighty that I may find it difficult to 
put up with plain Miss and Mrs. I have actually been so 
bold as to decline an invitation from a princess, not the 
American one, to afternoon tea: it conflicted with my period 
at the Information Desk in the Casino. 

May 18. As a sort of international courtesy shown by 
America to her ally Belgium, it seemed fitting to invite the 
Duchess of Vend6me to attend a performance of our Parisian 



64 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

vaudeville in the Casino; and having ascertained that this 
would be acceptable to Her Royal Highness (I think that 
is the correct title to apply), we invited her for Wednesday 
evening. 

The boys were told, of course; and almost all who are 
here, even those who had seen the show (on the stage) already, 
went to see how royalty looks and acts in a theatre box. We 
Americans are always amusing under such circumstances, for, 
trying to treat titled people in somewhat the way to which 
they are accustomed, and at the same time in the way in which 
we ourselves are accustomed to treat people, we usually make 
more or less of a mess of it. However, we get a good deal of 
fun out of the performance, and probably our victims do, 
also. 

The box in the theatre was decorated with flags, and the 
one opposite also, occupied by the American and French Com- 
mandants. A delegation of us Y people met the party at the 
door. The women did not curtsey, and the men did not kiss 
the Duchess's hand; but we tried to be polite in a more or- 
dinary way, and at any rate we succeeded in getting safely 
into the theatre. 

Of course, it was necessary to begin with the Belgian 
National Anthem (we had been warned, or I fear not one of 
us would have recognized it) and then the Marseillaise and 
the Star Spangled Banner, everyone standing. Those of us in 
the box with the royal party had been warned that we must not 
sit down unless asked to do so by the Duchess; and we thought 
how tiresome, if she should forget to look behind her and see 
what we were doing. But she was right on her job, and we 
were seated at once. In fact, all through the evening one 
could not but note with admiration how constantly on the alert 
she was to do the courteous and considerate thing. There is 
no doubt about it, these royal people have to repay in full all 
the formal courtesies by which they are surrounded. I could 
not help thinking how tired she must be, saying polite and 
enthusiastic things about each act of the vaudeville, talking 
to each in turn, acknowledging every attention, etc., etc. 
Although I was seated almost directly behind her, she re- 



IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 65 

membered all through the performance to turn around about 
once in so often, to address some remark to me. Even while 
one is glad that America has no titled aristocracy, at least one 
must admit the thoroughness and success with which in 
Europe the aristocrats "play the game." 

Unhappily for us, we had been coached in some points of 
speech and behavior, with the result, of course, that more 
than usual we did the things we were warned not to do. For 
instance, you must not use the word "you" in addressing 
royalty, but must say, "Will Your Royal Highness do this?" 
or "Does Your Royal Highness think that?" It was like 
the old days when we were learning to ride a bicycle, and 
found that the harder we tried to steer away from a stone or 
a post, the surer we were to run into it. I never heard so 
many "yous" in my life. It seemed as though there were no 
sentences in the English language which did not contain that 
fatal word. 

I had some special agonies of my own, for beside me sat 
a lady in waiting (at least I think that is what she was) who 
spoke no English; and I had to inflict upon her my hopeless 
French, a series of inane exclamations for the most part, 
about the French blesses, the American soldiers, the admira- 
tion of America for Belgium, and the beauties of Aix-les- 
Bains. I thought she winced once or twice at some of my 
most atrocious attempts, but in the main she displayed 
extraordinary composure under great provocation. 

After the show was over, the Duchess, the little Princess, 
and the rest remained to see the "Games" which frequently 
close our evening's entertainment. You can imagine that 
it is a lively performance when forty or fifty husky boys 
"get going." The best description I have heard was that of 
an English lady who visited us a short time ago. She said 
that while looking on she kept thinking of Rubens's picture, 
"Lions at Play." 

I am afraid this is a very frivolous epistle to write from 
so near the scene of the most momentous campaign of history. 
But we learn more and more that war, like the circus, has 
some queer side shows. 



66 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

Learning More New Tricks 

May 27. I have added another activity to the long list 
that I have reported to you from time to time, I mean in 
addition to my main job. I wish I had kept a complete list, 
just to prove what a "broadening" experience this Y work 
in France is. Well, my latest has been censoring vaudeville 
shows. Our bill here changes once a week now, and I am 
one of a committee of three to sample the new acts and pro- 
nounce upon them. Last Friday evening, therefore, when 
the new bill went on, we attended the performance from be- 
ginning to end — and pronounced it all excellent. What would 
my Puritan ancestors or my revered predecessor of fifty years 
ago in Central Church say about this? Not only attending 
theatrical shows (far from Shakesperian in character) but 
actually approving of them. 

On Sunday afternoons we have recently started a new 
custom which is proving very popular. The women of the 
Y invite all the soldiers to be their guests on the terrace of 
the Casino between four and seven. Refreshments are served, 
and the orchestra plays. The women are scattered about and 
form the centres for the groups of men, who seem to enjoy 
thoroughly the homelike air of it all. The place is so quiet and 
beautiful, overlooking the lovely gardens of our Casino, that 
it is hard to realize that a war is going on. And of course that 
is just the way we want to make the men feel. 

June 4. We have been very busy again lately. There is 
as much to do here now as there was in the middle of March, 
but with half as many Y workers as we had then, so that we 
have had to double up a good deal. I, for instance, am taking 
charge of several of the regular daytime excursions, such as 
the trip about the city ("Seeing Aix"), the bicycle trip to 
the Gorges de Sierroz, and one of the trips up Mt. Revard 
by the cog-railway. I enjoy that sort of work tremendously. 
All along I have gone on trips with the boys as often as 
possible, so that now I am merely doing regularly what I 
have done occasionally before. It would amuse you to follow 
me about on the "Seeing Aix" trip. We visit first the Roman 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 67 

arch and other remains of classic times, and the Gothic 
stairway and "dungeon" of the Hotel de Ville. Then we go 
through the bathing establishment, and view its pools and rest- 
rooms and equipment for treating various forms of disease. 
Next we explore the grotto, the galleries and chambers of 
which were worn in earlier ages by the hot medicinal waters, 
now piped to the tubs and pools and spouts of the establish- 
ment below. Finally, we arrive at the little museum, where 
relics of every period in the city's history, from the stone 
and bronze ages down, may be seen. Behold me, as we go 
along, mounted on some convenient step or bench, delivering 
brief popular lectures on history, geology, and architecture, 
but really bent on giving the boys a good time and making 
new friends among them. 

Lyon and Again Grenoble 

June 24. The most interesting part of the past week has 
been spent in visits to two other places. The first was to 
the city of Lyon on a combination of Y and personal business. 
There were supplies to be bought for our library, a copy of 
a soprano solo to be secured for use at a concert in the Casino, 
some inquiries to be made at the Grand Bazar de Lyon (a 
department store) concerning an item of canteen equipment, 
and a visit to the United States Consul, besides the usual 
military formalities incident to all travel in a country at 
war. All of this was accomplished in the morning hours, so 
that at noon I found myself a gentleman of leisure, and just 
then I happened on an American soldier in the same state: 
for the officer, with whom he was travelling as orderly, had 
turned him loose for a limited period, and he was strolling 
about to see the town. Of course, as soon as I spied him, I 
walked up and introduced myself: it is a great convenience 
that one's fellow-countrymen abroad in these days are dressed 
in an unmistakable uniform; it makes foreign travel a very 
sociable affair. He was the nicest sort of a boy, from Oregon, 
who had gone straight from school into the Army. I took 
him with me to lunch, at which, though I was his host by 
virtue of paying the bill, he in a sense was mine, for I had 



68 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

started on my journey with an insufficient supply of bread 
tickets and he was able to contribute enough for our joint 
needs. We might both of us have been guests of a French 
priest, who came by just as we were walking off together, and 
who asked us, evidently on the strength of our American uni- 
forms, to go and eat with him, an interesting commentary on 
the popularity of the American Army in France in these days. 

My other visit was to a small group of American soldiers, 
about whom I have written to you once or twice before, at a 
place about two hours from here by train. That is, it took 
us two hours to reach there from here; but, owing to the 
vagaries of the present state of French railroad traffic, we 
were nearly six hours in getting back. (The journeys be- 
tween here and Lyon were equally disproportionate: three 
hours to go, seven to return.) Heretofore this trip of which 
I am now speaking had been made by auto; this time it was 
possible to make use of the railroad, as we could spend two 
days in making the trip, and it is not right to use essence 
(gasoline) except for real necessities. 

Our plan was to go on a Saturday, so that we could give the 
boys a "show " on Saturday evening, and a Service on Sunday. 
We were a party of eight, five women and three men, including 
our best available "talent," a parson, and a chaperon. It had 
not been easy to provide a programme, for the performance 
had to be given without any musical instrument. There is no 
piano at the barracks, and we happen just now to have no one 
who plays any other instrument. You might think that under 
such circumstances it was rather venturesome to put on a 
programme consisting largely of dancing and singing; but 
it is astonishing how well you get on without things, when 
you can't have them. 

We put up at a hotel in the city near which the boys are 
stationed, and in the afternoon rode out on the trolley (five 
miles) to their little town. There we had our supper in an 
apology for a garden, which was the best place the little coun- 
try cafe could offer; and a very excellent supper it was. Our 
dancers had their last rehearsal while we waited for the food 
to be served, the rest of us clapping time, while Gerry Reynolds 



IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 69 

whistled the tune of the "Sailor's Hornpipe." The French 
people who saw us no doubt took us for lunatics, but we are 
used to that. 

After supper we walked the short distance to the barracks, 
arriving just as "inspection" was being completed. After 
looking over the various possibilities, we decided to give the 
show out-of-doors, between the two buildings which our men 
occupy. The little square of turf formed the stage, a drainage 
ditch represented the footlights, and on the farther side some 
bunks, a bench, and two chairs accommodated the audience, 
that is, the more favored part of it, for across the field, perhaps 
an eighth of a mile away, there was a literal " niggers' heaven" 
— a long fence which, as the show proceeded, held a larger 
and larger number of Moroccans, who are encamped there. 
Around us, beyond the buildings and trees in the foreground, 
was a superb panorama of mountains, some broken and jagged, 
some massive and precipitous, some cloud-capped, while one 
long line of them, breaking through the clouds, was covered 
with the eternal snows. All the time that our foolish little 
show was going on, marvellous transformations were following 
one another on those mountain heights, as we passed from 
sunset, through the afterglow, to moonlight. 

To see our performers, in costume, emerge from the 
barracks on either side, and do their stunts in the open, was 
certainly a novelty. Everything was vigorously applauded, 
and every available encore was called for. Then, with the 
help of the victrola, there was dancing. Our Y girls were good 
sports, for the conditions did not make dancing easy. Some 
of the boys were bashful about beginning: hob-nailed boots 
and a turf floor made them fearful of accidents. But before 
long all who could dance at all were taking part; and the rest 
seemed to enjoy watching, especially when the dancers began 
to "cut in." To see Joe robbed of his partner by Jake, and 
then promptly take his revenge by dispossessing Pete, was an 
unfailing source of amusement. Advice was freely given from 
the side lines. Before nine-thirty, which was the hour for 
"lights out," we said our good-nights, and were taken back 
to the city, in two installments, in the army Ford truck. 



70 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

Next morning, making an early start, we were all out at 
the encampment in time for nine o'clock Service, and all the 
men were on hand, too. This was held in one of the barracks. 
Then there was half an hour for talk and good-byes. You can 
hardly imagine what it means to the boys, especially to those 
who are in isolated places, to see a group of American women. 
An entertainment such as we gave them helps to cheer them 
up, and a Service gives them a lift ; but the biggest thing is to 
get the touch of home that nothing can give as the women can. 

Our journey back to Aix was long, but not without its 
diversions, especially our picnic luncheon, mostly fruit, which 
was ripe enough to be hard to manage in close quarters. No 
need to shout " complet" to the other travellers who looked in 
at the door of the compartment: no one dared enter. 



IV. BEHIND THE LINES, NEAR CHATEAU-THIERRY 

On the Way 

July 3. I have said good-bye to Aix-les-Bains, and very 
hard it was to leave there. I had lived and worked there 
nearly six months, a never-to-be-forgotten experience. My 
last Sunday being the one before the Fourth, I had an espe- 
cially good chance to say my last word to the boys at Aix, as 
well as to my comrades of the Y staff there. The kindness of 
all of them did not make it any easier to leave, as you can 
imagine. It was almost like leaving another parish. 

Monday I took my usual trips with the boys; Tuesday 
(yesterday) I spent in packing, saying good-byes, and doing 
the innumerable last things; and I came up to Paris on the 
night train. 

You will wonder why I have left Aix so long before the 
time of my sailing for America. It is because I hope that in 
the interval I may have a chance to see some of our Central 
Church boys, none of whom ever got to Aix in all those months. 
I had been trying to get this opportunity for several weeks 
past, asking to be sent as a worker; for I do not believe in 
asking for the privileges of a mere traveller at such a time, 
even though for justifiable personal reasons. No response 
came to my request, and I feared that my plan could not be 
carried out. I spoke to Edmonds of my disappointment, and 
with his co-operation I did, somewhat late, receive my new 
appointment. I understand that it will take me into an 
interesting region. I have gotten as far as Paris, and hope by 
Friday to get the necessary movement orders, and start. 
Of course, even if I get into the neighborhood where our boys 
are, I may not see them, but at least I am doing what I can to 
achieve it. I know there are some of you to whom it would 
mean much, if someone you know could bring you a personal 
report of how your boys look and what they are doing. 

July 4. I have time to give you a brief account of this 
memorable day in Paris. The city has paid a great tribute to 
America and her fighting men. 



72 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

Paris is positively gay with flags, and that in itself means 
a great deal in a people as war-weary as the French are. Even 
a year ago when I first got here, I remember being fairly 
startled by the contrast between Paris and New York in that 
respect — New York a riot of color in its flag enthusiasm, and 
Paris all grey and sombre, the business of war. But to-day 
flags have flown everywhere, on all public buildings and most 
private ones: half the people in the vast throngs wore some 
emblem of America. The flowers sold in the streets were 
made up into bouquets of red, white, and blue. 

The utter disregard of anything the Germans might do 
with their big gun or a daylight raid (tempted by the great 
crowds and the parading soldiers) was splendid. Everyone 
was on the streets, apparently, and stood in dense masses for a 
couple of hours waiting for the procession and watching it pass. 

I stood in the Place de la Concorde to see our boys go by. 
I need not tell you how different it was from the peace-time 
parades of the old days at home. These were men who are 
fighting for us now, many of them right from the front, the 
survivors of some of the glorious attacks with which our men 
have begun to show how Americans can fight. And they are 
going back to it to-morrow. There was a band at the head of 
the procession; but its music soon passed and was lost in the 
great open space where I stood, and the men marched by to 
the sound of their own tread. 

The French people applauded (in the sort of indoor fashion 
which is their custom), saluted each American flag as it passed, 
and threw flowers to our boys. A French aeroplane performed 
unbelievable feats just over our heads. The whole scene was 
very brilliant and strange. But the thing that gripped you was 
the meaning of it, the meaning of those bronzed lads in khaki 
from every state in the union, marching as fighting men 
through the streets of Paris. In the mind of all of us was the 
announcement in the morning papers from President Wilson 
that America has now sent her first million men to fight with 
the Allies for the world's liberty. 

I have spent the afternoon in walking in all directions on 
the boulevards and talking with as many of our American 



BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 73 

soldiers as I could, helping some to find their way about, 
pointing out objects of interest to those who seemed to have 
an inclination toward sight-seeing, giving small sums of 
money to a few who seemed depressed by the empty state of 
their pockets, and hearing all sorts of war stories hot from the 
front. I must have talked with twenty or thirty, and I heard 
some thrilling tales. On the whole I am not sorry that my 
movement order could not be gotten in time to allow me to 
leave the city to-day but I hope that there will be no further 
delay to-morrow. 

In La Ferte-sous-Jouarre 

July 8. I am at least approaching the fulfillment of my 
wish, for I have gotten near enough to our Central Church 
boys to get direct news of a few of them, from boys in their 
outfits who know them. It has been all good news. Besides 
this I have met any quantity of Massachusetts boys, and not 
a few from Worcester. Some of these have sent messages to 
their families at home, which it will be a great pleasure to me 
to convey. Constantly, ever since I have been up here, I 
have kept asking the boys I meet, where they come from, 
so as to identify all who come from Massachusetts, and we 
have had some fine talks about the old Bay State, I can assure 
you. And about a good many other states, too, for that 
matter, for any part of the United States looks good to all of 
us over here. 

I have been only two days at this place; but even if this 
were all, I should count it one of my great experiences in 
France. Some day I can tell you more about it. It is the 
nearest I have come to the stern realities of war : within sound 
of the guns, and within sight of the tremendous activities that 
go on just behind the lines. 

Among the boys I have seen is one who was an eye witness 
of Chaplain Banker's wounding. He told me from his own 
immediate knowledge how the Chaplain, when he was hit, 
insisted that he was all right, and that others needed help 
more, and ought to be attended to first. There is no doubt 
about what the boys thought of him, or how they took his 



74 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

death to heart. The tears stood in this boy's eyes, as he talked 
about it. 

The secretaries at Paris and up here have been very kind 
in arranging my present short assignment so as to give me the 
best chance of running across Massachusetts boys, first in send- 
ing me up to this sector, and then in assigning me to work in a 
very central position, where men from many different outfits 
are coming and going all the time. They come in droves into 
the little ex-wineshop, where I am helping run the Y, and the 
streets are full of them. When I am not on duty, I spend 
all my time walking about on the lookout for chance en- 
counters. Even when I don't have an opportunity for a talk, 
it seems worth while to say just a word in passing, especially 
to the boys who are moving up toward the line. The way 
some of the faces light up in response to just a friendly greeting 
makes you realize how hungry some of them are for a touch of 
friendship. 

Yesterday, Sunday, I spoke at a Service held in the as- 
sembly hall in the Hotel de Ville, through the courtesy of the 
Mayor. Below in the square were the litter from the market 
and the empty stalls, and along the farther side passed an 
almost continuous stream of men, horses, trucks, and all 
sorts of army supplies, on their way to the front. Imagine 
how it seemed, to look out on that, as we sang "Onward, 
Christian Soldiers." We faced the windows singing it, so 
that the boys idling about the square and perhaps some 
marching at the farther end of it might catch the notes of 
that old hymn of Christian faith and purpose. 

In Montreuil-aux-Lions 

July 9. Just a line to let you know that I had barely 
finished my previous letter when I was moved to a still 
bettor station, nearer the front, or rather was sent to open 
one. The place had been selected by the Head Secretary of 
the division, the building secured with the assistance of the 
American "Town Major," and I w^as chosen to start the enter- 
prise, which gratified me very much, being a new man in 
this division. They said they wanted a man with lots of 



BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 75 

"pep," and I didn't let on that I was rather surprised at 
being chosen, but am putting up a bluff that I am the very 
man for the place. It is a wonderful situation, as central 
as the other and more important in being the final distribut- 
ing-point of men going up to the front line. From the moment 
we open the canteen in the morning till we close at night 
because of darkness (we are not yet equipped for the necessary 
screening of lights), there is an absolutely steady line of from 
ten to a hundred men waiting to buy. 

Up here you are required to carry your gas mask all 
the time and are equipped with the steel helmet. The guns 
are audible at all times of day and night, unless the noise 
of the traffic drowns it. All night long, as at the other place, 
one hears the tramp of men, the clatter of horses' feet, the 
pounding of motor trucks. 

The town in which we are has been completely evacuated 
by civilians, and I am in a house which was very plainly 
vacated in a hurry — all sorts of personal things left lying 
about. It seemed funny enough to take possession of other 
people's property, without their consent or even knowledge. 
I've tried to be considerate, and have moved up into the 
garret some things that the owners might regret having left 
behind, especially children's things — building blocks and 
other toys, and a high chair. But most of the contents was 
rubbish, ankle deep, which had to be fairly shovelled out. 
You wouldn't believe that, though, if you could see how cozy 
and neat our little Y looks now. I think I am having the 
best time yet. 

July 20. I wrote you on July 9 about my new venture 
only about six miles from the front, which I had then been 
running only one day. I kept it up for a week (the limit of 
my time there) and had a wonderful experience all through. 
At first I had only a limited amount of help from another 
man, whose main work was getting supplies up to the ad- 
vanced position of one of the batteries; but later he 
was transferred entirely to my canteen, for there was cer- 
tainly enough work to keep busy two men to say the least. 

Each day our crowd of customers grew bigger, as the news 



76 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

of the canteen spread farther and farther afield. The whole 
countryside was alive with troops, though so skillfully dis- 
persed that it would take a keen observer to discover the 
fact. The popularity of the canteen had its disadvantages, 
however, from a military point of view. Very early we re- 
ceived word that the line must not extend out through the 
front door, but through the back rooms and the courtyard 
behind, in order to avoid the gathering of a crowd in the 
street; but even with that precaution too many remained 
outside for safety. A German plane overhead would at 
once notice the crowd, and a shelling of the town would soon 
follow. The Military Police held off as long as possible, 
realizing what the supplies meant to the men; but on Friday 
night came word that we must close up. 

Fortunately in the meantime a large hall had been dis- 
covered nearby, and permission from the Town Major to 
occupy it had been secured. The place had been cleaned out 
by us on Thursday; and as soon as the order to close up the 
canteen arrived I went to the Assistant Provost Marshal 
(local head of the Military Police) and asked permission to 
make a trial in this hall. (His first word had been that we 
must move out of the town altogether, and set up a tent in 
the woods somewhere.) 

He gave his consent to the experiment, and I made some 
large signs to aid in keeping the men out of sight of the enemy, 
to the effect that 

MEN MUST SCATTER AT ONCE 
ON LEAVING THE BUILDING 
OR THE Y WILL BE CLOSED 
and that 

MEN MUST NOT COLLECT 
OUTSIDE OF THIS BUILDING. 
COME INSIDE OR GO AWAY. 

So on Saturday morning the Y canteen was opened up 
in the Salle de M. Engle at the Cafe de la Lyre, and the Red 
Triangle and the golden Lyre swung side by side. The two 
rooms in our new quarters were 20 feet by 40 feet and 25 



BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 77 

feet square; but even so the line, after circling about both of 
them, would, if we did not keep watch, straggle down the 
stairs and out into the street. On Sunday afternoon the 
A. P. M. stationed one of his men at the door to take the rec- 
ord of men entering, and between three o'clock and dark he 
counted 973. I knew this counting was an ominous sign; 
and sure enough on Monday afternoon, just as I was reluc- 
tantly taking my departure for Paris, came word that, even 
though kept indoors, too many men were being drawn together 
by our canteen, and we must close down. I have not heard 
what happened after that. 

At any rate, as long as we did run, we did a whacking 
business. Three times a day I had to restock from the ware- 
house, and each night we ended "sold out." In the week that 
I was there we took in over 21,000 francs. 

From the beginning I had been watching for a chance 
to get nearer to our Central Church boys. One of the regi- 
ments had gone into the front line just before I got there, 
and I could get no chance to follow it. I had more hope of 
reaching the gun positions of the two batteries in which eight 
of our boys are. At first, I could only send messages to the 
people who might help me, being tied down at the canteen 
myself. But on Friday I had a chance to drive over to the 
place where the artillery regiment had its headquarters, 
and there enlisted the help of a Y man who promised to 
intercede with the Chaplain to get permission for me to go 
up to the gun positions or the echelons at night. He was to 
let me know next day, if any way opened. That was the day 
when we moved into the larger quarters, and I could not get 
away for a moment. Nor did I discover till too late that the 
iisual trip of the Y truck to the artillery headquarters had 
not been made that day, preventing my getting any message 
from there. On Sunday, having heard nothing, and having 
a second chance to go over myself, I went, and to my disgust 
learned that the Chaplain had made arrangements for me 
to go up with him earlier that morning to the echelon and help 
in the Service. But the word, as you see, had never reached 
me, and the chance was gone. My request to be allowed to 



78 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 

go up with the kitchen-wagons or the ammunition-train that 
night was promptly turned down. I was told that no one, 
not the Chaplain himself, could go up that night, for it was 
expected that the German offensive would then begin. And it 
did in fact begin, as you will recall, on that night between 
July 14 and 15. 

I took an interesting walk that Sunday afternoon, after I 
had returned to my own station. It was due to a mistake I 
had made in filling out a remittance blank for a boy who was 
sending money home to his brother. I went out to his camp to 
find him, a couple of miles from the town. It was in a wood 
which was packed full of men in tents and dug-outs, a most 
interesting revelation to me of what a camp just back of the 
lines is like. When leaving there, my companion and myself 
had enough curiosity to walk a mile or so farther, toward the 
German lines, to a height from which we could see nearly to 
the lines themselves. At that time of day the road was prac- 
tically deserted, no conveyances, only four or five soldiers and 
Y men walking. Trenches and barbed-wire entanglements 
showed the preparations made for a possible retreat. We 
knew that the woods were full of guns. But it all seemed so 
peaceful, that it was hard to believe that only just out of sight 
was one of the hottest places of the whole battle-line. 

That night or early the next morning the big offensive be- 
gan with terrific bombardments. Many guns of the Allies 
were placed far behind the town I was in and shot over our 
heads, and the Germans shelled places well in our rear. At 
some places farther from the front than we, no one slept a 
wink from the terrific noise of the nearby guns. But curiously 
enough in our situation, in a sort of little hollow, the worst of 
the noise was cut off. The guns were perfectly audible, of 
course; but we went calmly to sleep, and had as good a night's 
rest as on any night that I was there. 

On Monday afternoon I went by motor back to the rail- 
head, and took the train for Paris. The next night, as I 
learned later, the railroad station, where I had boarded the 
train, was completely wrecked by a well-placed German shell. 
The train which I took was packed with civilians who were 



BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 



79 



hastening to escape before the expected bombardment began. 

I did not realize at the time that this was the cause of the 

heavy train-load. 

And now each day's report of the battle in the newspapers 

tells me what is happening up in the region just north of where 

I spent my busy week. Had our troops retreated, it would 
have brought the battle at once into the very region where I 
was; but, thank God, the line is moving the other way, and 
all the reports are full of glowing praises of our boys. 

The days since then have been spent in getting the neces- 
sary papers, authorizing me to return to the States, from the 
Y and from the American and French authorities. Naturally, 
it is a complicated and prolonged process; but it is now com- 
plete, and I should be actually on my way, were not the sailing 
of my vessel delayed. 



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